First Hint of Spring
by sergeantmicky
Summary: Finding Bucky is the easy part. He's broken and terrified and a shell of his former self, but Steve knows he can save him. It'll just take time - time and patience. And many sleepless nights. Spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier. No slash, just friendship and LOTS of h/c.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Like so many other wonderful writers on this site, I saw Captain America: The Winter Soldier and died a little, and so I had to write something. **

**There's no slash, just lots of h/c and friendship. I hope you enjoy!**

**I own nothinggg.**

**X**

"What makes you think it's going to be so easy to find him?"

Sam's standing there with his arms crossed, being all _Sam_ – he's not pushing, he's not acting like Steve's stupid, he's just asking.

Steve looks at him – at Sam, who has so loyally remained by his side every day while he healed – and clenches his jaw.

"Because. I broke his arm, Sam. He can't just keep going with it like that. Sooner or later he's gonna either pass out, or go to a hospital. And there's gotta be some kind of record, right? I mean, where else is he gonna go? Hydra's done."

Sam sighs. "Yeah man, but if you ask me, I'm betting on the whole 'passing out' thing over the 'going to a hospital' thing any day. I don't think your old pal is exactly thinking straight. And if he does pass out somewhere? It doesn't mean it'sgoing to be in a populated area. Why would he go anywhere populated? He's probably off in some woods hiding."

Steve flinches at the thought of his best friend hiding in some cold forest, hurt and alone. "I'll find him."

Sam sighs a little. "Well of course you're not gonna do it alone, I'll help you, I'm just saying I don't think it's going to be easy."

x

And yet it is easy. It's a thousand times easier than either of them thought it would be, because in a way, Bucky pretty much comes right to them.

Steve's been out of the hospital for barely two weeks when his phone rings in the middle of the night. He fumbles around in the dark, his side pulling painfully where the still-healing bullet wound is.

"Hello?" _Who the hell is calling at this time of the night? S.H.I.E.L.D isn't even around anymore. _

"Hey Capsicle."

Steve groans quietly, rubs his eyes. "What is it Tony?"

"Don't get too excited to hear from me, it's nothing big. Just thought you'd want to know that it seems your bestest pal in the world is looking for you."

Steve sighs, loudly. "Tony, what the hell are you talking about? It's three in the morning, your jokes aren't..."

"It's not that hard, Captain Brain. Your friend, one James Buchanan Barnes? He's looking for you."

He's immediately awake, sitting straight up in bed. He doesn't even feel his wounds protesting. "What? Where? Is he there?" His heart is pounding like a drum.

"No, he's not here." There's a clink in the background and Steve thinks briefly that Tony must be having a very late nightcap. Or else a very early one. "But I just got a call from a hospital in Brooklyn. Seems somebody found your pal passed out somewhere, took him to the hospital, and after terrorizing the entire hospital staff once he woke up, kept mentioning one _Steve Rogers. _And of course your number's not listed but mine is and I guess they think I'm your boss so they called me, and..."

"What's the name of the hospital?" Steve cuts in, already pulling on his jeans, hopping awkwardly on one leg with the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear.

"Victory Memorial," Tony replies. "Hey, want me to go with? I could use some McDonald's anyway, it's..."

Steve hangs up.

x

The trip to Victory Memorial seems to take forever. Steve's heart is pounding, and all his earlier exhaustion seems to have evaporated into thin air.

_Bucky... I'm coming. I'm coming, don't go anywhere._

He parks outside the front doors of the hospital and runs in, and as soon as he approaches the receptionist's desk she's picked up the phone. "He's here. I'll send him up right away." She smiles at Steve. "It's a good thing you're here, Captain. Head up to room 205. Please hurry."

x

The room is a mess - an overturned gurney against the wall, blood on the floor, a smashed window on the left. His eyes flick around the room rapidly, searching, and there he is.

Huddled in the corner of the room, knees pulled up, injured arm cradled protectively against his ribcage. His head is lowered, dark hair covering his face, and he's not moving.

"Bucky?"

Bucky's head flies up, dark blue eyes angry and guarded, but when he sees it's Steve, something changes in his face. Steve thinks he sees just a little bit of happiness. Or maybe not happiness... maybe relief. Either way, it's a good thing.

"Hey." Steve takes a step forward, and Bucky's chin goes down a little, eyebrows lowering.

"What - what are you doing here?" It looks like it takes him some effort to say it, and his voice is gruff. Steve wonders how long its been since he spoke last.

"I came to see you," Steve replies, taking another step forward. "The doctors told me you were asking for me, so..."

"I didn't," Bucky snaps, he looks angry, but hurt too, and afraid. "I didn't ask."

"Well I'm here now anyway." Steve keeps moving forward, he's only about ten feet from Bucky now and up close he can see how exhausted his old friend looks, his face white and drawn under the light stubble dusting his jawline. There's dark shadows under his blue eyes, and his eyes themselves – Steve's not sure he's ever seen anyone look so lost and confused. There's several glass shards stuck in his right arm, and bloody smears all over his arm, neck, and left cheek.

He's literally as close to the wall as he can get. There's nowhere left for him to go. Steve takes another step and crouches down so they're on the same level, glass crunching under his boots.

"Hey. Doesn't your arm hurt? What do you say we get it looked at?"

Bucky turns his head away a little, Steve watches fear growing in his eyes. He whimpers – clearly involuntarily – and Steve is reminded of a wild animal backed into a corner.

"Please," Bucky says shakily. "Please don't."

"Don't what?" Steve's heart feels like its in a vice grip. He hasn't been this close to Bucky since the helicarrier.

"Don't touch me."

"Why not?"

"I might hurt you." Bucky's voice is barely above a whisper, and Steve watches as tears slowly form in his eyes and streak swiftly down his cheeks.

"Buck." Steve smiles and reaches out – ignores Bucky's flinch – and puts his hand on his old friend's knee. "Haven't we already been there and done that?"

Bucky's eyes latch onto his hand and he just stares, all the while tears steadily flowing. "I know you. _Why do I know you?_" His voice is tortured, trembling, the fingers of his metal hand clenching and unclenching jerkily.

"Because we're best friends, Buck. Or at least we used to be." Steve doesn't move. He feels oddly as if he moves a single muscle, the moment's going to pass and he's going to lose Bucky forever. "I know what they did to you, Buck," he continues softly, "Just... let me help you. I'll help you remember."

He lowers his head, tries to catch Bucky's gaze again, and finally Bucky's eyes flick to him, and they are so, so tormented and _pleading. _"I don't remember," he whispers desperately, mouth quirking in a frustrated gesture.

"You will." Steve pats his knee gently but firmly. "I'm gonna help you, Buck. We'll figure it out. What do you say?"

Bucky holds his eyes for a long moment, biting his lip – _he looks so _young_, like a teenager when he does that_ – and Steve can see the internal battle going on and then he nods, ever so tiny. "But – but I don't have anywhere... to go."

Steve smiles. _Yes. Did it. _"Yeah you do Buck. As long as I'm around, you're always gonna have somewhere to go."

x

It takes a while, but Steve finally manages to convince Bucky to let the doctor set his arm. He doesn't want the doctor anywhere near him, starts shaking like a frightened animal as soon as Steve even suggests it. He keeps whispering "No" frantically under his breath until Steve kind of wants to cry himself.

Eventually, he manages to get Bucky up on the gurney (after he turns it over) and as long as he stays right there and keeps his hand on Bucky's back, he lets the doctor come near. Not that the doctor seems any more pleased to come near him himself, working as fast as he can and shooting nervous glances at Bucky the whole time. Steve observes his old friend as they set his arm, noting the way Bucky watches the doctor with terrified eyes, his whole body leaning as far away as he can get without interfering with the process, and when the doctor does the actual setting of the bone Bucky makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat – almost a growl - and his eyes go darker, Steve sees anger start to seep into the fear that's already there.

"It's okay Buck, almost done," he says quickly, but keeps his voice light, and he puts his hand on the back of Bucky's neck instead and rubs gently, feels the muscles under his hand relax ever so slightly, and Bucky's eyes flip over to Steve, and there is something there, something. Steve wouldn't call it trust, but it isn't fear or anger either. "Almost done," he says again, and Bucky's gaze doesn't leave him until the doctor is finished.

x

He's oddly calm in the car. Steve had worried he'd feel closed in or threatened, but he settles down in the passenger seat and seems strangely relaxed, his blue eyes lighter and his jaw unclenching.

Steve eyes him as he starts up the car, and Bucky looks at him too, his expression somewhere between blank and questioning.

"All right?" Steve asks, trying for a smile.

Bucky doesn't answer, at least not for the next five minutes or so, and Steve doesn't say anything. But when they reach the highway, Bucky suddenly clears his throat, very quietly. "I like driving." His voice wavers a little and rises at the end as though he's not sure if it's true.

"Yeah?" Steve grins. "You always did! We took a few road trips back in the day, you always loved the driving part. I mean, you used to let me drive and you'd fall asleep, or you'd just stare out the window..." His voice trails off as Bucky's eyebrows lower, he bites his lip again, stares at the dashboard.

"I don't remember."

"Yeah, sorry Buck. I didn't mean to..." He trails off.

They drive in silence for a while, and Steve doesn't even know what to feel. Joy? Fear? Anger? Joy for sure. Joy that he has his best friend back (kind of) and he's not _dead. _God, the amount of guilt he had felt for so long... Fear too though. Fear at what Bucky might do, fear that he isn't actually _Bucky _anymore. But that is something that Steve doesn't really allow himself to think about, because _no, no my Bucky IS in there, and I'll find him. _And... there's a lot of anger. Anger at Hydra, what they did to Bucky. When he'd read that file... seen the pictures...

"I saw the pictures."

Steve jumps at Bucky's quiet words, tries to pretend he didn't.

"What pictures?" _The pictures in the file?_

"At the... museum."

Steve glances at Bucky quickly.

"I saw you and – and... me. I think it was me."

"It was you." Steve's eyes burn a bit, somewhere way back. He blinks quickly.

"But – but I don't _remember." _Bucky's voice cracks, when Steve glances at him again his eyes are shiny. "How could I just... forget all that?" The light from outside slides across Bucky's face smoothly, constantly changing.

"Because they made you forget," Steve replies immediately, and the burning behind his eyes disappears and is replaced by rage, pure rage. _They stole my friend from me. They hurt him._

_If I could, I'd kill them all. _

_x  
_

The first night is actually the easiest. By the time they get back to Steve's place, Bucky is asleep, his head leaning against the window, young face worried and defensive even at rest. Steve can't bear to bother him, because although his expression says it is not peaceful, he seems to be in a deep sleep, and Steve suspects he hasn't had a good night's sleep in a long time.

He's slightly curled against the window, broken arm in its sling tucked tightly against his side, the metal arm laying loosely in his lap. Steve looks at it for a long time.

Even though it's extremely uncomfortable in the car, at least for him, and by the morning his legs are so cramped he has to walk around for ages and stretch to relieve the pain, later he still thinks of that night fondly, because after that... not a single night goes by which is that peaceful again.

x

"Here we are!" Steve swings open the door to his apartment and stands back to let Bucky go first, but Bucky hangs back, seeming to shrink into himself, dark eyes wary, and his metal hand tightens into a fist. Steve thinks maybe his chin is trembling. So Steve goes in first, and Bucky follows him with only a slight hesitation.

"What do you think?" Steve closes the door behind them, checks the lock. "I've got a guest bedroom, it's all yours now. Come on, I'll show you."

Excitement is bubbling up in his chest, even though Bucky looks scared and his shoulders keep twitching. _He's back, he's back. He's really back. _

"What do you think?" Steve asks again as they stand in the guest bedroom. It's not much – just a simple room with a double bed and a nightstand with a lamp, the duvet a plain dark burgundy.

"It's – great," Bucky says haltingly, and his mouth does something funny, a little quirk, as though maybe – just _maybe_ – he wants to smile. His eyes have lightened to a cool blue and he looks at Steve with something like gratitude.

Steve swallows and turns away, blinking. Suddenly he can't bear that look. _You shouldn't be grateful to me. _"Well, it's all yours."

x

That night Bucky wakes up growling like a wild animal and punches a hole clean through the wall.

Steve lurches up out of a light sleep and runs to the door to find his friend huddled in the corner of the room, just like he was at the hospital, eyes huge and terrified.

"Hey hey hey!" Steve is instantly awake. "You okay?" He starts to hurry forward but stops abruptly when Bucky flinches and cowers away from him, his metal arm held up as though protecting his head.

Steve inches forward, holding up his hands. "Hey. It's all right. I'm not gonna hurt you Buck, promise. It's me. It's Steve." He crouches down beside his friend and when he touches his shoulder, he can feel his entire body trembling, hear his rapid, terrified breathing. "It's okay," he says again, even though it's not, and that's when he sees the hole in the wall. It goes right through to the neighbour's apartment.

"Sorry," Bucky whispers when he sees Steve's face. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean..." His eyebrows furrow, he looks like he's going to cry.

"Don't apologize," Steve says immediately. "It's fine. Don't worry. Come on Buck." He coaxes his shaken friend out to the living room, gets him a glass of water that Bucky only eyes blankly, and then he phones up Tony Stark.

x

"Hey Captain Underpants. Can't say I was surprised to hear from you."

Tony smiles pleasantly, leaning out the door. He's wearing running shoes and a greasy wifebeater, carrying a dirty rag, even though it's something like four o' clock in the morning. He takes in Bucky, who is standing behind Steve looking apprehensive.

"Hi. I'm Tony. Tony Stark. Maybe you've heard of me, I'm something of a celebrity around here, it's pretty funny..." His voice trails off into nothing as Bucky just stares at him, eyebrows furrowed, silent. "O-kay... this is awkward." Tony raises his eyebrows at Steve. "I don't think your friend likes me."

Steve sighs and rubs his forehead. He's so tired. "Look Stark, it's been a long night. You said it's okay for us to stay here for a while right?"

"Yeah yeah, I did, slow your roll. I've got some pretty fancy rooms for ya... are we talking separate rooms or did you guys wanna buddy up? I got both choices, I'm rich that way..."

Steve glances back at Bucky as they head inside, and his friend just looks back at him with tired eyes. "Let's try separate for now," Steve says finally. He wants Bucky to feel independent, not like Steve is keeping him here against his will.

x

That night, he's woken up by sharp knocking at his door. Steve groans and hauls himself up, opening the door to find a harrassed looking Tony with a serious case of bed-head and a bloody lip.

"Hey Il Capitano. Just thought you'd want to know that Frosty the Snowman is currently freaking out in the living room. He started banging on my door and when I opened it he kind of – yeah – punched me in the face. I think _perhaps _he was looking for you. Just a wild guess."

Steve pushes past him and runs full-out to the living room, where he finds Bucky on the floor, huddled with his back against the couch. "Bucky, you okay?"

Steve forgets to approach him with caution and Bucky jumps a mile and shoves himself away so fast he kind of falls, landing on his metal elbow. Steve grabs his arm quickly. "It's okay, it's me. It's Steve."

"Steve?" Bucky voice sounds raw, like he's been screaming for a very long time. He freezes, his head tilted back, breathing hard, wide eyes fixed on Steve.

"It's all right," Steve says again, and he tries to pull his friend closer, but Bucky pushes him back roughly, and Steve hits his back against the couch, unable to hide a grunt as one of his wounds shoots forked lightning up his spine.

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry. Steve..." Bucky ducks his head and curls over a little, his face scrunching as though in pain. In the dim moonlight coming in through the windows, Steve thinks he catches the shine of tears on his friend's face.

"Okay. Okay." Shaken, Steve stands up, presses a hand against the bullet wound, looks down at his friend on the floor. "Want me to go?"

"No. Please don't. Please." Bucky sits up abruptly, and for the first time since he's come back to him, Bucky moves toward Steve first. He gets up on his knees and holds out his metal hand, and Steve, hardly daring to hope, reaches out and takes it, and Bucky lets Steve pull him to his feet. They stand facing each other for a moment, there in the dark, and Steve looks into Bucky's wide, dark, frightened eyes and he sees his friend, he sees James Buchanan Barnes, just a broken version of him. But it's _him_, it is.

"Please don't leave me alone again," Bucky whispers, his voice wavering, and his chin starts to quiver. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I pushed you, I'm sorry I hit your friend, I'm sorry – I can't... control... _please._" His metal fist is clenched, emotions so very very close to spilling over.

Steve realizes suddenly his friend is begging, and he reaches forward and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Buck. It's okay. I'm not going to leave you. Ever again. I swear."

Bucky sniffs and lowers his head, but he doesn't take his eyes off Steve, and Steve can see the struggle going on just under the the surface, the struggle to decide whether or not to trust Steve. It breaks his heart.

Tony clears his throat quietly. "So I guess you'll be wanting that room together now?"

x

Within a few days time, Steve is beyond exhausted. The thing is, Bucky just doesn't _sleep_. Oh, he tries. But always within an hour or so of going to sleep, he's woken up by nightmares. One night he woke up crying. Steve lay in bed and wondered whether or not he should intervene, listened to him crying softly into his pillow for ten minutes before he couldn't stand it anymore and went to his bedside. He'd rubbed his back – t-shirt damp with sweat - slowly up and down until Bucky's tears subsided and he just lay there limply, his metal hand laying only an inch or so from Steve's own.

One night he woke up screaming, a hoarse, agonized scream that made Steve's blood run cold and the hairs stand up all over his body, and he knew that Bucky was dreaming about being tortured, having his mind wiped, being experimented on. Maybe he was dreaming about the arm being attached. Steve's seen the pictures. He knows. He goes to Bucky's side but Bucky is terrified, terrified of everyone and everything and he won't let Steve touch him, but he does seem somewhat comforted by Steve being close and he leans towards Steve like he wants the contact, but not all the way.

But Steve is tired, he is so tired. His eyes feel like sandpaper all the time and his body still hurts from the helicarrier fight and he needs sleep that he is not getting. He knows Bucky's in the same boat. His friend has dark patches under his eyes and he has no energy – he's even losing the energy to push people away. Two days after they get there Tony comes right up and checks out his metal arm while Bucky is laying on the couch, and Bucky only eyes him warily - his eyes flicking quickly over to Steve to reassure himself - then he just lays there while Tony exclaims over 'the _craftsmanship',_ looking beat down and miserable.

x

The fourth night they're in Stark Tower, Steve wakes up predictably to a scream of pain and fear, and he shoots bolt upright in the bed and squints toward Bucky's bed. It's actually early in the morning – they managed to get a bit more sleep than usual tonight – but in the dim light of dawn, Steve can see clearly that the bed is empty, the sheets hanging onto the floor.

He curses under his breath and scrambles out of bed, shoving aside his own sheets roughly. "Bucky?" He calls softly, and of course there's no reply. He starts to run towards the door when he happens to glance out the window – Bucky is standing on the balcony outside, his shoulders heaving, metal hand pushing back his hair, just looking up into the sky.

Steve pads to the door and opens it carefully, steps out onto the balcony. The stone is cool but not cold under his feet, and the morning air is crisp and clean.

"Bucky?" he says quietly, not wanting to startle his friend, and Bucky looks back at him immediately. His eyes are wet and he looks so, so lost.

"Hey." Steve takes a step closer, trying to calm his pounding heart. "You okay?"

Bucky looks back at the sky for a moment as though trying to decide something, and then he abruptly sits down, pulling his knees up to his chest. He looks up at Steve with pleading eyes. "Talk to me."

"What?" Steve is taken aback.

Taking his surprise the wrong way, Bucky winces apologetically, his voice wavering. "Please. Sorry. Please talk to me."

"Of course I'll talk to you. What do you want me to talk about?" Steve sits down, close to Bucky, so close their shoulders are almost touching, and his friend doesn't move away.

"Tell me about – about me. About me and you. Please. I – I want to know. I want to remember." He rests his chin on his knees for a second, and Steve thinks again how Bucky looks so very young for his age. His chest hurts, somewhere around his heart. "Yeah. Okay. Sure. Of course."

And he starts talking. He starts with them becoming friends, when they were just little boys. He tells him about how little James Buchanan Barnes would look after little Steve Rogers on the playground, stick up for him, and how sometimes Steve Rogers would have to look after James Barnes too after that 'sticking up for Steve', when he was bloody and bruised and trying _really hard_ not to cry. He tells him about how proud James was to have his first girlfriend, but how he'd made sure she brought a friend for Steve so they could double-date.

Bucky's eyes stay fixed on Steve's face, listening so intently he reminds Steve of an animal, frozen, a panther maybe.

Sometimes Steve sees tears in Bucky's eyes. He doesn't know whether it's because he remembers, or because he wishes he remembered.

Steve moves on to James joining the army and going off to war, and Steve getting recruited for a very special mission.

When he gets to the part about Austria, and the beating the 107th took, Bucky's face changes. He sits up a little straighter.

"And then..." Steve hesitates. "And then I found you, and you were..."

"On a table."

Steve stares at him in shock.

"I was – I was on a table and..." He pauses and squeezes his eyes shut, knocking his metal knuckles against his forehead in frustration. "And..."

Steve realizes he's holding his breath. _Come on Bucky... come on, you can do it. _

"...and then you took me off the table. And you – you said – you said 'I thought you were dead'."

"Yeah. Yeah that's exactly what happened." Steve realizes his own cheeks are wet, and realizes right after that he doesn't even care.

"It hurt," Bucky's voice sounds like he's ten years old again. "It hurt... _so bad._ What they did." He's crying now too, softly. "I was so, s-so _scared_. But y-you found me. I _remember._" And he smiles then, even through his tears, the first smile Steve's seen on his face in so _so _long. It's just a small smile but it's enough for now. God, it's enough.

Steve leans over and wraps his arm around Bucky's shoulders, and Bucky flinches just the tiniest bit. Steve's ready to back off quick if he needs to but then Bucky slides over closer, and he leans his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Missed you Steve," he says, very quietly, and Steve isn't sure if he means back in the war when he was a POW, or if he means in the vast chasm of time between now and then, and he decides not to ask, he just tightens his arm around Bucky and feels his old friend melt a little closer. Maybe _relaxed _for the first time.

"I missed you too, Buck. God I missed you so _much_."

He becomes aware of their surroundings for the first time since he started talking – the sun is up now, the stone under their bare feet is warm. It's going to be a hot day. He's pretty sure he can hear loud rock music from a few floors down.

There's more to the story of course, a train, and the moment when time stopped and nothing was ever, ever the same again, but Steve thinks that story can wait for now.

Bucky remembers. He _remembers. _Even if it's just that one thing... it's a start.

x

**I have no clue if I'm going to continue this. Part of me thinks I have more to write about these two... but who knows. **

**Thank you for reading and please leave me a review on your way out! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! First I would like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed! You are all too kind! I did not expect such an amazing reaction to this story... so I'm kind of blown away. Also I would like to say thank you to everyone who encouraged me to continue - your enthusiasm inspires me! :D  
**

**I want to give a quick shout-out to DarkHorseBlueSky, who left me a lovely review but I wasn't able to private message her. THANK YOU. Your review made me so happy! And I'm so glad you like my Tony... he shows up a lot more in this chapter. :)**

**This chapter feels a LOT longer than the other one... it was actually going to be even longer than this but I had to stop myself because it was just getting out of hand :P So I apologize for the length, and I hope you all enjoy.**

**X**

_Everything_ scares him. The sound Stark's microwave makes when it goes off. Stark's ridiculous loud music – _rock music? _When someone moves suddenly without warning. People _touching _him. Only Steve is allowed to touch him, and sometimes even that's not okay either.

He hates it when people shout, but he hates it even more when people whisper. It just sets him on edge – he doesn't know what they're talking about, and it scares him. In his experience, people who whisper are talking about things that are A) Going to hurt him, or B) Going to hurt someone else.

He finds it very odd that none of these things scared him when he was... not Bucky. When he was The Soldier. Then it was like everything just slid by and couldn't touch him and he never gave anything but The Mission a second thought. Now... now he feels... _raw_ all the time. Like an exposed nerve. Like his whole body is covered in brand new flesh that has just healed over from some awful injury and it's not used to being touched and it's not used to being exposed to wind or water or _anything_, really.

And his mind is just... well, it's FUBAR. He remembers that term from the War, if nothing else.

The talk he had with Steve out on the balcony helped a little. Remembering Steve pulling him off that table... he knows now that Steve definitely hasn't been lying to him. He didn't know that had actually happened to Bucky Barnes until Steve told him it for sure had, after he'd already remembered it himself. So he really is Bucky... and Steve really is his old best friend.

But that memory is like a page ripped from a book. There's nothing before it and nothing after it. It's just floating around all by itself, missing the rest of the book and really completely useless without it. He doesn't tell Steve this though, because Steve is so, so happy that he remembers that little bit, and for some reason he doesn't want to disappoint Steve.

He knows Steve is clinging to the fantasy that one day he's going to _remember_ everything in one big rush, and he's going to be _Bucky _again and everyone is just going to live happily ever after.

Bucky is not operating under that fantasy. He is glad to be here with Steve, and glad to not be in the hands of Hydra anymore, but part of him doubts he will ever remember anything more than that one thing.

After all, it's been an entire week since that morning on the balcony, and he hasn't remembered anything else.

X

"It's PTSD," Tony remarks flippantly. He's sitting on his leather couch, feet up on the coffee table, clinking around a glass of whiskey and ice.

Steve shoots him a frustrated glance. Tony's as cool as a cucumber, as though Bucky didn't just freak out and smash one of the devices on the wall with his metal fist, rendering it completely and totally destroyed (it was beeping).

After that, he'd proceeded to have a full-out panic attack, sweating and crying while huddled against the wall, shaking like a leaf, and all the while Steve had crooned calming things and rubbed his back, shooting angry, accusing glances at the still sparking remnants of Tony's creation.

"What does that mean?" Bucky asks shakily. His teeth are still chattering.

Steve's still crouching next to him on the floor. Not that he could move if he wanted to – Bucky's metal hand is wrapped so tightly around his wrist he's surprised there's no broken bones.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Tony says airily, shrugging. "Trust me, I know what it looks like."

Bucky looks up at Steve, confused, and Steve tries to think of the best way to explain it. "Uh, it means something really – really bad happened to you, something that scared you a lot, and there's lasting effects... like remembering it over and over, and things keep reminding you..."

"Shell shock?" Bucky asks, his eyebrows lowered in concentration, like he's trying to recall something from a long, long time ago.

Steve smiles. "Yeah. Yeah that's exactly it."

X

He's almost always with Steve. Part of him – the part of him that's not Bucky, the part of him that's still The Soldier (it's getting smaller every day) - thinks that he should be ashamed for being so dependent on someone. But the other part of him - the bigger part that _is _Bucky - is perfectly happy with being just that dependent. After all, it's been a very, very long time since he's had someone he feels... comfortable around. Someone that makes him feel _safe. _

Sure, there's still times when Steve scares him and sometimes when Steve touches his arm or tries to hug him he gets the horrible urge to hit him, to hurt him and make it last, but those times are becoming few and far between. Most of the time he'd rather be around Steve than anywhere else, and most of the time he actually can't stand _not _being around Steve.

And Steve is of course completely fine with his dependence. He seems to have absolutely no problem with spending every waking moment with Bucky, talking to him about their lives (_it IS my life_), telling him all about the Avengers, and S.H.I.E.L.D., and something that happened in New York a couple of years ago that always makes Stark leave the room if he's around when Steve brings it up. Sometimes they watch movies. Movies absolutely fascinate Bucky. He can't remember ever seeing one before, even though Steve tells him he used to _love _going to the theater, back... then.

Anyway, they're always together. So that's why it's so odd when one day, Stark picks up the ringing phone, tells Steve it's for him, and when Steve answers it he only says "Hello" before quickly going into their bedroom and shutting the door behind him before Bucky can follow.

For a moment, Bucky is so surprised he just stands there and waits, waiting for Steve to realize his mistake and open the door. But it doesn't open. He can hear Steve talking, snatches of the conversation, his voice is slightly raised.

"_I don't think he's ready for that... I can't go now... I don't know how he'll react..." _

"_He'll". Me? _He puts his metal hand on the door and waits, waits for Steve to open it.

"Eavesdropping?"

Stark's voice makes him jump so bad he almost bites his tongue. He whips his hand back from the door and turns to glare furiously at Stark, who is walking by carrying a donut, a smirk on his face. He can't think of anything to say.

"Just kidding, dude. No need to give me the glare of death." Stark crosses over to the bar and takes down a shot glass.

Bucky backs away from the door a little, angry that Stark scared him, and angry that he feels so completely lost and unsure without Steve right there. He stretches out his metal arm and watches the trembling fingers – it scares him suddenly, that being separated from Steve for only a few moments has him so on edge.

"Bucky?"

He jerks, looking back over his shoulder, and Steve is standing there in the open door, tapping the phone gently against the doorframe. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He nods quickly, curls his hand into a fist to stop the shaking. "Who was that?"

"Natasha. Sorry to take off like that, I just... yeah..." Steve trails off, and Bucky's heart does a weird thing, misses a beat or something. _He's hiding something from me. _He doesn't like that feeling. Steve hiding something from him cannot be anything good.

Steve pats him on the shoulder as he walks by, and Bucky flinches, more because he's suddenly afraid of what Steve is hiding rather than Steve's actual contact. But he follows Steve anyway.

Until Steve stops and turns to face him, rubs his jawline like he's trying to scrub something off, looking all over the place, everywhere but at Bucky.

"What is it?" Bucky asks, even though he's ninety-nine percent sure he doesn't want to know the answer.

"Bucky, can you please just give me a few minutes? I need to talk to Tony. Uh, privately."Steve looks like it physically hurts him to say it, but Bucky backs off immediately, and he can't help feeling hurt himself.

He watches as Steve leans over the bar to talk to Stark, his foot tapping a steady rhythm against the floor, and Stark actually puts down his bottle of alcohol to listen. They're whispering. Or at least, talking in very low voices.

Bucky's shoulders itch, somewhere deep down, and his eyes burn a little. He remembers people whispering. He remembers what happened every time people whispered. He remembers being strapped down to a table, unable to move even an inch and people in white coats standing only a few feet away and _whispering. _And then bad things happened.

X

Steve dreads this conversation. He can honestly say he doesn't know how Bucky's going to react, but he's got a good idea of how he's going to react, and it's breaking his heart before he's even said anything.

"I don't like it either, Spangles," Tony says, and he pours himself another shot of whiskey and shoots it back like it's water. "Your precious little bundle of joy over there isn't the only one who's going to be very upset, trust me."

Steve gives him a long look, and then turns away from the bar. Bucky is still standing where Steve left him, his metal arm crossed over his injured one, and his eyes are blank, blank as though he's not even in this room, not even on this planet. When Steve starts to walk towards him, his eyes quickly clear and he focuses on Steve, but there's fear there, crippling fear, and Steve can see even from this far away that he's breathing hard suddenly.

"Okay, Buck?" He asks quietly, and Bucky's eyes fall away from him quickly, he looks at the floor instead.

"Yeah."

"Come over here, come over here and sit for a minute," Steve says, because he doesn't know how else he's going to do this and he thinks vaguely it might be better if they're sitting. Steve can physically feel Bucky's reluctance to sit, but he does anyway, and it makes Steve's chest hurt that Bucky doesn't even _try _and protest.

Steve puts his elbows on his knees and leans forward, and Bucky crosses his arms and leans on the side of the couch, biting his lip, blue eyes fixed on Steve's face.

Steve takes a breath. "Uh. Yeah. Bucky, I've gotta go for a while. Just for a bit. Maybe two days. Natasha needs my help and... I owe her, kind of. So yeah. But it's going to be really short, I swear..." Steve's voice trails off into nothing, and then he smiles weakly. _Good job, Rogers. _

"But..." Bucky's voice cracks, and he swallows and tries again. "But I can come with you, right?"

Steve wants to die. "No, Buck. I don't think that's a good idea." He's still smiling weakly – _why am I smiling? –_ and he watches Bucky's light blue eyes darken, his jaw tighten. "You're gonna stay here with Tony, okay? I swear it's only going to be a couple of days... and I'll be back. It'll – it'll be all right, Buck."

Bucky is staring at him like he's never seen him before. "I'll come with you," he says, and his voice is definitely wobbling now. "I can help you, whatever it is, I'm not..." He glances down at his right arm in its sling, and Steve sees him realizing it, realizing there's no way out of this. When he looks back up at Steve his chin is quivering. "Can I just w-wait in the car?" He tries for a little smirk, as though it's a joke, but Steve knows it's not.

He sighs. _I hate myself. _

_X_

"I have to leave in the morning," Steve goes on, every inch of his body apologetic. His shoulders are hunched up a little, hands clasped in his lap. "I swear, Bucky, if I had a choice, I wouldn't leave. But Natasha might be in trouble... and I can't just let that happen. You know? She's helped me a lot in the past."

Bucky nods, because there is nothing else to do, and leans back, pulling his knees up to his chest. "It's okay," he says after a moment, because Steve is looking at him like a kicked dog, and there's something – _something... _he's seen that face before, and he's pretty sure it always makes him say "It's okay" and back down from whatever it is he really wants to say or do.

"Not really." Steve sighs and runs a hand over his short blond hair. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere, not for a really long time, anyway. So this is... frustrating."

Bucky does his best to shrug. "I'll be okay. Don't worry." But fear coils in his stomach like some kind of serpent. He wonders vaguely if the old Bucky Barnes hid his true feelings away too.

X

Steve barely sleeps that night. Usually his mind would be preoccupied with the mission ahead, but in this case he can't stop thinking about Bucky.

_What if something happens while I'm gone? What if he has a panic attack and I'm not here? What if he _remembers_ something and I'm not here? What if – what if he leaves again? _

The thought of losing his best friend again makes his heart start to pound, and he sits up in the dark and looks toward Bucky's bed, irrationally afraid he won't be there. But he is. He's curled on his side, facing away from Steve, in the same position he was last time Steve looked. _Ten minutes ago? _

Bucky is usually such a restless sleeper though, Steve has a feeling he's just pretending to be asleep.

_Bucky... _

_It's just for two days. Maybe even less than that if I can rush things along. _

He wakes up with the start of a headache. The sun isn't even up properly yet. _Probably if I wasn't a superhuman, I would have an actual headache. _He gets dressed, throws a few things into a suitcase – _only two days or less _– and goes to the door.

"Are you leaving now?"

Steve takes his hand off the doorknob, looks back at Bucky with a smile. He's sitting up in bed, dark hair tousled, metal arm cradling his still healing one. His eyes are huge and shiny in the dim light. "Not yet, Buck. Did you think I'd leave without saying good bye?"

Bucky doesn't answer. He just looks away, down at his lap, and Steve realizes he doesn't want an answer to that question.

"Just putting my stuff in the hall," he says quietly. "Then I have to go talk to Tony. I'm leaving in about ten minutes."

When he gets back, he opens the door carefully and Bucky is still just sitting there on the bed. His eyes aren't blank this time, but he's just staring at the wall and he looks like he's thinking about something – _remembering_ something maybe – that isn't good.

"Buck?" Steve approaches the bed cautiously, and his friend turns slowly to look at him. His jaw is clenched, eyebrows lowered, his eyes a very dark blue. Steve doesn't see anything _Bucky _about him in that moment and it scares him. "Bucky," he says, firmer this time, and Bucky's eyes lighten almost imperceptibly, but it's as if something that is majorly _Bucky_ has just reappeared, and Steve lets out a very quiet sigh.

"I've got to go now, Buck. Listen, I wanted to say a few things first."

Bucky doesn't say anything, but his stony gaze remains fixed on Steve's face.

"Okay... like I said, I'm not going to be gone long, okay? I'm gonna try and keep it as short as possible. But if you need me for anything – _anything – _just ask Tony to call me, okay? I'm going to take a phone with me. God knows I might not be able to figure out how to work it, but I'm going to try. Hopefully there'll be someone around who can help me." He laughs a little. Bucky doesn't smile back. Steve clears his throat. "So – I mean, yeah. I already told Tony that if you need me for anything he's got to call me, so he won't be arguing with you if you ask... and listen, Bucky, if Tony tells you to do something you don't want to do, you don't have to do it. Okay?"

Bucky looks confused. "What do you mean?"

Steve shifts on the bed, sighing. "I'm just saying. Tony can be... annoying. So if he's bugging you or something, you don't have to listen to him." He hesitates, then puts his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Okay. I've gotta go. I'll see you when I get back, okay?"

Bucky nods, looking away. "Okay." He shifts a little on the bed, avoiding Steve's eyes. "Be careful."

Steve smiles. "I will." He throws caution to the wind and pulls his friend into a hug – Bucky immediately tenses, but it takes only a moment for him to melt into Steve's embrace, and he feels the fingers of Bucky's metal hand clutching the back of his shirt desperately. When he finally pulls back reluctantly, Bucky is looking at him like a kicked puppy. It's such a drastic change from his expression only a few minutes ago, and Steve feels like the worst friend in the world. "I'll see you soon," is all he can manage, and he leaves, trying not to notice how small and scared Bucky looks there on the bed.

X

He doesn't want to leave his room. The thought of Stark Tower without Steve there to watch out for him is too much to bear. So he curls up under the sheets and stays there. _Don't think, don't think, don't think..._

He watches the clock go from 7 o'clock all the way to 11 o'clock before there's a knock on the door. His body tenses, but he doesn't say anything.

"Hey. Jack Frost. Don't you think it's time to get up?" More knocking.

Bucky clenches his teeth.

"Okay, well, breakfast is on the table. It's _really_ good too. I made eggs and... shit. Anyway it's here if you want it. Just saying. I don't care if you come out, I'm just doing what I think Steve would want me to do, I mean, I don't really care either way, if you starve it's not my fault, it's kinda yours, I'm _just_ saying, I mean, if Steve comes back and you've died of starvation I'm not taking the blame, cause honestly I offered, so..."

Bucky pads quietly to the door and yanks it open – the hinges squeak ominously – and glowers at Stark as hard as he can. Stark backs up a step, his expression both triumphant and scared.

"Hey big fella. Whoa, just kidding around. But you did get out of bed and that was _kind of _the point. So... how about that breakfast now?"

Bucky – no, The Soldier - wants to hurt him, he really does. If Stark wasn't Steve's friend, he'd already have thrown him into a wall, most likely. But he knows that Steve would be upset, and he also understands – grudgingly – that Stark is just looking out for him, like Steve asked him to.

"I'm not hungry," he growls finally, because the last thing he wants to do right now is eat, even though his stomach feels hollow and kind of sick. He closes the door in Stark's face and returns to his bed, where he pulls the sheets up over his head and takes deep, calming (not really) breaths.

Alexander Pearce's face swims behind his eyes as soon as he closes them and he flinches involuntarily. Pearce hasn't shown up in his head for a good two or three days. With Steve there, he'd managed to distract himself every time he'd started to think about him.

_So wipe him and start again. _

A horrible chill starts at the base of his spine and creeps slowly upwards, and he curls into himself and wraps his metal hand behind his head, makes himself as small as he can possibly get.

_I can't do this alone Steve. I can't. _

_X_

By four o'clock in the afternoon he finally can't take it anymore. He's a mess, both mentally and physically. Without Steve to distract him, he's sunk back into terrifying memories, memories of cold metal tables and white lab coats and needles and pain and _cold_. So cold. He's shaking all over, teeth chattering, and the sheets covering him are not enough.

Stark has not come back to the door. He wonders vaguely if Stark has left him too.

_Steve I need you._

He drags himself out of the bed, taking the sheet with him, and walks out to the living room. Stark is sitting on the couch, watching something on the TV, and when he sees Bucky his eyes widen.

"Oh hey..." he says, trailing off, a smart-ass nickname apparently unavailable at the moment. "You decided to get up huh? You obviously like sleeping in... I mean dude, I can't even sleep in that late, and I am a _pro_ at sleeping in. A pro. Did you want breakfast? Or, I mean, lunch? Dinner? Cause I can..." He trails off as Bucky glares at him wordlessly.

_I'm so _cold. _I just want to be warm. _

He wants to wrap his arms around himself, but the stupid sling is in the way, and without thinking he rips it off his arm effortlessly and throws it aside, then sits down in the leather chair opposite Stark and curls up.

Stark's mouth is hanging open. "Hey... maybe you should keep that on, huh?" He looks a bit nervous suddenly.

Bucky glares at him, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. "I don't want to."

Stark narrows his eyes. "Hey. Mr. Freeze. If Steve gets back and your arm is more broken than it was before, whose ass is going to be on the line? Let me tell you something, pal, it ain't gonna be yours. So how about we just –"

"I _don't_ want to," Bucky snaps, and it comes out more like a growl. He's scared and he's miserable, and it's making him angry. His arm does hurt – okay, it hurts a _lot_ – but the sling is making him feel claustrophobic and more helpless, and it has to stay off.

Stark glares back at him, irritated now too. "You know what, I think I liked you better when you were just blindly taking orders."

Bucky sneers at him and looks away, unable to hide the shudder of cold that runs through his body.

Stark evidently catches it too, because he stops looking quite so angry and starts to look a little bit guilty, and he sighs. "You okay, pal? You cold? Want me to turn on the heat?"

Bucky doesn't know what he means by "turn on the heat" and so he doesn't answer. He leans his head on the side of the chair and shivers, cradling his arm against his ribcage. Stark approaches slowly. "Hey. Bucky. Are you cold?" He sounds very serious now.

Bucky considers him for a long few moments, and when he can't think of any reason why he shouldn't admit to it, he nods.

Stark disappears for a few minutes, and when he returns he's carrying a thick, heavy blanket that he opens up and shows to Bucky - "See what I got? Not gonna hurt you" – and then he carefully covers Bucky with it, more carefully than Bucky would have thought he could manage.

Within seconds he's warmer, and with the warmth comes exhaustion. Even though his stomach is growling pathetically, he's too tired to even speak, so he hopes his gratitude shows in his eyes.

"Yeah yeah," Tony says, waving his hand as he walks away. "I'm gonna watch a movie... if you wanna join me." He sinks down on the leather couch and picks up the remote control, and Bucky watches him through steadily closing eyes.

X

_The metal of the table is like ice against his back, and he's shivering and shaking so much it's painful. Nearby, there's a bunch of men in white lab coats, whispering. The nearest one turns to him, and he is very small and wearing big glasses. _

"_James Buchanan Barnes," the man says, "Is dead. Do you understand? You no longer carry that name. Do you understand?" _

"_But I am James Buchanan Barnes," he replies, and his voice is tiny and terrified. "That's my name." _

"_Not anymore," the man says firmly, and he picks up a long needle off the table and comes toward him. "James Buchanan Barnes is dead, as of right now." _

_And he sticks the needle into James' arm and presses its contents into his blood, and James screams in sudden agony as icy cold spreads rapidly from the needle into his veins, higher and higher and wider and wider and –_

"Stop! Jesus Christ, stop it!"

Someone is shaking him, hard. He snaps into consciousness with a roar of pain and fear, and there's a loud thud somewhere very close by. At first he can't make sense of what he's seeing – he isn't in that white room anymore, it's not cold – and Tony Stark is on the floor beside him, his dark eyes wide.

Bucky gasps for air, whimpers of agony escaping between each painful breath. Everything hurts. His right arm is burning like it's on fire. "Steve?" he chokes out, and Stark gets up off the floor.

"He's not here, pal. Want me to call him? Maybe I should call him." Stark sounds shaken.

But it's all coming back to him now, he's starting to come back to himself. "No! No. Don't call him. Please." He doesn't want to bother Steve, doesn't want him to think he can't survive one single day without him. _I can't._ He glances over at Stark, tries to stop shaking."I'm fine." _I'm not. _

"Yeah, okay, sure." Stark looks horrified still, his voice isn't all that steady. Bucky's never seen him like this before. "You were only trying to rip your other arm off, but it's no big deal, I'm sure you're just peachy keen."

Confused, Bucky looks down at his burning, stinging arm, and realizes there is blood smeared all over it, all over the sheet that was covering him, and all over his metal hand. Deep scratches range from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist. He looks up at Stark, and Stark is shaking his head.

"Dude. You were clawing at your arm so hard I swear I thought you were gonna tear it off."

"I – I did that?" He can't remember.

Stark rubs his face with both hands. "I'm gonna be honest here, okay? Man to man, bro to bro, superhero to... superhero. This is way out of my league. I _really _think I should call Steve."

"Don't!" Bucky snaps, then quickly soften his voice. "Please don't. I'll – I'll be okay. I just need to – to not sleep anymore." He avoids Stark's disbelieving gaze and sits up, blinking, still trying to shake the memories from his mind's eye.

Stark sighs heavily, and starts to come over. "Well at least can we go and clean you up? Cause there's kind of blood every..."

"_Don't_. Touch me," Bucky growls, and he may be sitting on a couch covered in a blanket and shaking like a frightened animal, but there's obviously something still intimidating about him, because Stark backs off immediately, holding his hands up.

"Okay. _Fine. _No need to be an asshole about it. Sorry for trying to help. Jerk." Stark goes back to his couch and flops down, sticking his legs straight out in front of him like a stubborn child.

Bucky doesn't bother to argue. Stark doesn't get it. He doesn't know that Steve is the _only_ person who has ever touched him (that he can remember) that hasn't hurt him. He doesn't get that Bucky associates touch with pain. Pain and cold and _blank nothing empty gone._

X

They sit in silence for a while until Stark finally sighs loudly and stands up. "To hell with it. In my opinion – and by the way, my opinions are _usually _pretty awesome – what we need to do is just keep you distracted till Steve comes back... cause _clearly_ you aren't gonna let me anywhere near you, which is cool. I mean, I'm fine with that. I'm actually just as not cool with being near you as you are about being near me. No hard feelings, right? So... here's the thing. I've got this video game I want to play. Pepper – that's my girlfriend, you haven't met her yet, I don't think she's even aware of your existence actually which is probably a good thing – she picked it up for me about a week ago and I'm kinda halfway through and I haven't had a chance to play it the rest of the way cause things have been kinda... busy. So..."

Even though Bucky is miserable and half not even there, he's still amazed by just how much Stark can talk without hardly stopping for a breath. His head hurts just trying to keep up with everything Stark is saying.

"You ever played a video game before? Seen one? I'm gonna take that cold glare of disgust as a no. So you just watch, alright? It's gonna blow you away."

Stark busies himself setting up something in front of the TV, and Bucky just watches him, trying to slow his pounding heart.

_How many days has it been so far?Is Steve coming back tomorrow or the day after that? Please please tomorrow._ He looks down at the drying blood on his metal hand and a wave of dizziness makes him flinch and close his eyes. _Blood. Lots of blood. On my hands. _

Stark is waving around the case from the video game. "_Uncharted 2: Among Thieves_. I've only played the first one, and this one..."

Bucky stops listening. Stark isn't making any sense to him.

He watches uninterestedly as the screen comes up on what appears to be a snowy mountainside, or something. As the camera moves along, he sees something hanging off the cliff – a big vehicle, or something. Words appear across the screen:

_Train-wrecked. _

Something twinges in the back of his mind. Way, way back, from behind where all the lab coat and needle memories come from.

The camera continues to move closer and focuses on a man, a man who is hanging onto the train by only his hands, his feet dangling into open space, and the piece of metal he's hanging onto starts to bend as Stark moves the man across it.

_Something. Something. _Bucky sits forward, watching the screen intently now.

"I know, it's riveting right?"

He barely hears Stark's voice. _Why do I... there's something... snow... _

Suddenly, on the screen, the man falls off the train with a yell, down, down into the grey abyss and the screen goes black. "Shit," Stark sighs.

Bucky's world explodes.

x

**Ooooh, cliffhanger! :P **

**Please please leave me a review and let me know what you thought... good? Bad? Ugly? ;)**

**Thank you so much for reading. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**First of all, huge thanks again to everyone who left me such wonderful reviews for the last chapter! Much appreciated!  
**

**Here is chapter 3 - I hope it lives up to expectations. **

**x**

_Cold. Intense cold. Steve's face, hovering somewhere above him, is white and terrified. He's never seen Steve look like that before. The wind is rushing past him, everything is against him, everything is trying to pull him down. He stares at his fingers, gripping on for dear life, bloodless -_

"_Grab my hand!" Steve's voice is ripped away in the wind. He's stepping out on the side of the train, inching towards him._

_He reaches, he tries to grab Steve's outstretched hand but it's not even _close. _He's still got a good grip but __–_

_The metal he's hanging onto creaks ominously. _

_He barely has time to register the danger before he's falling. Steve shouts something that Bucky can't hear. He screams as he falls, and the train is becoming smaller and smaller above him, Steve is just a tiny red and blue blur._

_They say when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. His life does not. There just isn't time. _

_One moment he is screaming, terrified, knowing it's over, he's dead, and then there's just nothing. _

"Bucky! Hey, dude, come on, don't do this to me..."

Stark's voice is very close, Bucky hardly has time to realize that he is on the floor on his hands and knees before Stark is touching his shoulder and Bucky snaps. He grabs Stark by the throat and slams him against the wall, his metal fingers clenching, digging into Stark's skin.

Stark is gasping for air, his feet are dangling off the ground, heels kicking weakly against the wall.

Bucky barely sees him. His mind is not here, it's not anywhere near the present.

_Cold cold cold snow blood so much pain __– _

"S-S-Steve!"

The name snaps him back to the present – Stark is blue in the face but it was clearly him who spoke.

_What are you doing Bucky? _

It's his own thoughts... but for some reason it sounds like Steve's voice... _Steve. Where are you? _He drops Stark immediately, backing away as Stark crumples onto the floor, clutching his throat.

"_You remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?" _

"_Yeah and I threw up?" _

"_This isn't payback is it?" _

_Wind, lots of wind, and a train far below them. He's nervous._

_Where is it all coming from?_

Memories surrounding the fall are flooding back into his mind so fast he can't keep up. He's on the floor again, on his knees, eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught.

_When did this happen? When? Is that when... when James Buchanan Barnes died? _

He growls in frustration, smashes his fist into the floor.

_Why can't I remember what came before that? Or after that? Where did this come from at all? Why didn't Steve tell me?_

"I_ think_ it's time to call Steve now." Stark's voice is raw as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

Bucky curls over, resting his head against the cool metal of his forearm, panting, and he doesn't argue.

X

He goes to his room, because he can't stand being out there with Stark any longer. Little bits of memories keep coming back. A smile. A touch on the arm. A friendly face with a mustache. _Who?_

"_We were right, Dr. Zola's on the train." _

Dr. Zola... Dr. Zola... why? _Why why why?_ _Why do I know that name? _

He curls up, shaking uncontrollably, in the corner of his room with his back against the wall and he stays there as the sunlight slowly fades and darkness fills the room, and even then he doesn't move.

_Steve. Steve, where are you? _

He remembers being on the train, stuck on a car with nowhere to go – out of ammunition –

_When was this? Did it really happen?_

He knocks the back of his head against the wall and grits his teeth. "Come on, come on Bucky, _remember." _

The thing that stands out the most in his head is the falling.

"_Bucky! Hang on! Grab my hand!" _

_But he can't, he can't reach, the bar is coming off the wall -_

"_Nooo!" Steve's shout __–_

And there's another scream in his ears, one that isn't Steve's. _Mine? _

The memory of it makes his blood run cold.

He remembers that sensation of falling, it runs through his head over and over again and it's all he can think of. He knows, he knows that James Buchanan Barnes died that day and after that he was The Soldier and only The Soldier, there wasn't any more of that brave charming face he saw at the Smithsonian and those rides at Coney Island and hugs and pats on the shoulder and feeling safe and happy and chasing girls at the bar (_where did that memory come from?) _ and most of all there was no more Steve and Bucky, no more best friends, no more _got your back_. There was just nothing.

X

Steve gets back around midnight, and he is not quiet coming in. He's pretty sure he breaks the front door. He ran from the airport, because there wasn't any cabs around and he couldn't be bothered calling one, and he's breathing hard, because even for him that's quite a run.

"Bucky?" he shouts as soon as he gets in the building, which is ridiculous, because Bucky is fourteen floors up and there's no way he can hear him. Steve can't be bothered to wait for the elevator either, and he takes the stairs. He bursts through the doors, making a very dishevelled looking Tony practically jump right out of his skin.

"Took you long enough." Tony's holding an icepack to his head, and his throat has some very interesting and nasty looking bruising appearing. Steve doesn't care.

"Where is he, Tony?"

Tony points at the bedroom door, but then steps in his way. "Hold up, Cap. Maybe I should tell you what happened."

Tony looks very guilty for some reason, and Steve can't even begin to guess why he should.

"Tell me after Tony." He starts to push Tony out of the way, and Tony grabs his wrist roughly.

"Okay. You know what? I'm getting just a _bit _tired of getting pushed around by you frozen super soldier old guys, okay? Had just about enough of that for one day. Cap, trust me. You want to hear this before you see him."

Steve gives him a warning look, yanks his wrist away. "Fine, then spit it out." He paces, his eyes on the bedroom door. "Is he okay, Tony? Tell me he's okay."

"Was last time I looked. Listen. It was my fault, alright? I'll admit it. I was playing a video game... I thought it might distract him and I didn't even _think_, Cap. I forgot what part of the game I was at and by the time it loaded it was too late." Tony shrugs, but Steve can see it's bothering him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Steve's raising his voice now and he doesn't care. _What the hell does a video game have to do with anything?_

Tony glares at him, worry starting to turn into irritation. "Would you just let me finish, smart ass? There was a train, okay? A train crash. In the game. And – and a guy hanging on the side of it. And your pal saw it and he just started freaking out. I think – I think maybe he remembered, Cap." Tony's dark eyes are huge and apologetic.

Steve feels as if someone has just poured ice water all over his body.

X

The room is pitch black. "Bucky?"

No answer.

Steve's just about to flick on the light when he hears a very soft sound from the far corner of the room. He freezes, listening. He can hear rapid breathing now, and he takes his hand away from the light switch. "Bucky? It's Steve."

Still no answer. He makes his way carefully across the room, still managing to whack his knee on the bed with a quiet "Ow!". As he gets closer, his eyes start to adjust and he can see the silver glint of Bucky's arm, low down. He's obviously on the floor. He crouches down, gets on his knees. He can vaguely make out the outline of his friend now, and he reaches out and finds Bucky's knee. "You okay bud?"

A metal hand is suddenly around his wrist, tight at first, but not painful. Steve still jumps.

"Steve?" Bucky's voice is raw, broken. Steve can tell just from his voice that he's been crying.

"Yeah it's me. You okay?"

There's a slight shuffling sound, and Bucky leans forward a little. "No."

Steve sighs softly. "I heard what happened. Bucky... I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For... for everything." Steve sits back, lets his hand drop off Bucky's knee. "I should've told you but..."

Bucky doesn't say anything, but Steve can sense that even through his misery, he has Bucky's full attention. Still, he shifts awkwardly. _I don't want to have this conversation in the dark. _"Buck,"he says, "I'm going to turn on the light."

Bucky doesn't complain, so Steve gets up and feels around for the lamp next to the bed, almost knocks it over. When he finally turns it on and looks down at Bucky, his stomach swoops unpleasantly to somewhere around his knees.

"Jesus, Bucky!" He drops to his knees again beside his friend, stares in shock. There's blood _everywhere. _Bucky's right arm, hugged close against his body, is a torn up mess – and his metal arm is smeared with blood too. "What happened Buck?" Steve can't even tell where he should and shouldn't touch.

Bucky swallows, looks down at his torn up arm. "I had a nightmare," he says quietly, and his voice wavers on the last word.

Steve finally looks up at his friend's face, and his stomach only sinks lower. Bucky is white, as white as he was in the hospital that night, and his eyes are just deep, bottomless pools of sorrow, so dark Steve wouldn't even guess they were blue if he didn't know already. He's shaking all over, and when Steve gingerly touches his wrist he feels ice cold flesh under his fingertips. Bucky tilts his head toward Steve and whimpers so, so quietly Steve barely hears it.

"I remember," he says softly. "I remember the train Steve."

Steve pulls his hand back quickly, and Bucky's eyes flick up to his face questioningly. "I remember falling. I remember it _all._"

Steve can't stand it. He can't stand the lost look in his best friend's eyes, he can't stand the memory of Bucky falling off the train, can't stand the thought that it only happened because he couldn't catch him.

_None of this would have happened. None of it._

"I'm so sorry Buck. I'm so, so sorry." Tears press at the back of his eyes, and he sits back away from Bucky, puts his back against the bed. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you earlier, I'm sorry I wasn't _there _for you then. I'm sorry I let those maniacs get their hands on you... God, I'm sorry for everything." He drops his head into his hands, he can't look at Bucky's sad, sad eyes anymore.

He's crying, can't even help it. _All those years gone. Lost. All those years when I was sleeping and he was being tortured and experimented on and I was just... sleeping. Because I let him fall. Because I couldn't look after my best friend, even after I became a superhuman. Lot of good that stupid serum did me, because even though I saved a lot of people... I couldn't save the most important one of all. _

He's suddenly aware of a cold pressure on his knee – very gentle, but it's there. He swallows hard and looks up. Bucky is kneeling in front of him, his hand on Steve's knee, all big sad puppy eyes and long dark hair. _So long now. Gotta get that cut, Buck. _

"Why are you apologizing?" Bucky seems confused.

"Because – because it was my fault." Steve can barely look at him – that young face, that familiar face.

_Laughing... Coney Island... feeling sick after the Cyclone... and a warm arm around his shoulders and even warmer smile._

"_Sorry to cut the day short Buck..." _

"_Hey, don't apologize, it's not your fault." _

"_Yeah but the park's open till midnight. It's only seven." _

"_Who needs it? I'm tired anyway." _

He can see Bucky's face in his mind's eye – so boyish, so confident, so happy.

Steve reluctantly pulls himself back to the here and now. Bucky's face is still that young, still that boyish, but the confidence... it's gone. And the happiness... well that goes without saying.

"It wasn't your fault." Bucky's looking right at him, not avoiding his gaze at all. "I remember, Steve. I remember the whole thing." Fear flashes across his eyes for a brief moment and he flinches, before seeming to get control of it. "You just couldn't reach me, Steve. You couldn't reach. You tried."

"I tried." Steve repeats, shakes his head. "Not hard enough."

"Steve." Bucky's voice is suddenly stronger, stronger than Steve's heard it yet. His blue eyes are lightening slowly. "You couldn't have done anything more. You did everything you could do. Not your fault, Steve. None of it."

Steve's eyes are watering suddenly, and he has to look away. As he brings his hand up to his face, Bucky moves closer and leans his forehead against Steve's shoulder, and he sighs, a big heavy sigh like he's shaking something off, letting it go. Steve wraps an arm around him instinctively, and Bucky curls against his side, giving over all his weight.

"I'm so tired Steve."

"I don't blame you."

x

They sit there for a long while, until Steve actually senses Bucky starting to drift off, and then he reluctantly shifts. "Bucky. Hey. Come on, I want to get you cleaned up before you go to sleep. That arm looks pretty bad."

"'Ss okay," Bucky replies, slurring his words tiredly. He doesn't move his head from Steve's shoulder.

"No it's not Buck." Steve can't help but smile. _Bucky was never easy to get up in the morning. _"Come on."

He has to half-carry his friend to the bathroom, and Bucky flinches in the bright light and complains that the toilet seat is freezing when Steve makes him sit.

"I don't want to do this now." He's almost whining, eyes half-closed.

"You know, you're really grumpy when you're tired," Steve observes, and he can't help smiling. _Just like he always was. _

Bucky wakes up fast enough though when Steve starts cleaning his arm, and Steve can't help wince himself at the deep gouges in his friend's flesh. "You really did a number on yourself, Buck."

"I don't remember doing it," Bucky says softly. "I just... had a bad dream."

"Yeah." Steve sighs.

X

When Steve goes back out into the living room to get Bucky's sling, Tony is sitting on the couch, a glass of some sort of alcohol balanced on the arm. "Hey Captain Power Ranger. How is he?"

"He's okay," Steve says, and he can't help but smile as he picks up the slightly torn sling from the floor.

"I didn't scar him for life?" Tony's tone is joking, but he's not really looking at Steve, and Steve can tell he's actually worried.

"No Tony. I mean... he remembers. So I guess it turned out okay. I just would've rathered it happened while I was _here_, that's all."

"Yeah... sorry about that." Tony sighs, then brightens. "But hey, it all worked out okay right? He remembered, and that was the goal right? So in the end... my hugely epic blunder actually was a good thing!"

"Sure Tony." Steve waves at him. "I'm going to bed. Maybe you should too. You look like crap."

"Thanks a lot. You don't exactly look like Mr. Universe yourself right now, smart ass," Tony calls as Steve heads back into his room.

X

Bucky waits for Steve in the bathroom. He's too tired, both mentally and physically, to go anywhere – so he stays sitting there on the toilet seat, and when Steve comes back in with his sling Bucky lets him put it on without complaining once – he only winces when the material puts pressure on his freshly bandaged scratches.

"How about we keep this thing on from here on out, huh?" Steve's voice by his ear, slightly amused, a warm hand on his shoulder.

Bucky doesn't answer. He feels like he's reached the extent of his vocal ability tonight, and really he wants nothing more than to go to bed. Which is something he hasn't wanted to do for a very long time.

He lets Steve help him back out to the bedroom, and as soon as he hits the bed he curls up on his left side. Steve's weight doesn't leave the bed, he just sits there, and Bucky sighs, realizing suddenly that at this moment he is content – he's not afraid, he's not angry, he's not even cold. Somehow, remembering that crucial part of James Buchanan Barnes' past... it's changed something. He knows more now. He feels more secure in his own skin. He still has a _lot _of questions – like who Dr. Zola was - _is? _A little chill runs up his spine when he thinks of that name, that _face_, and he shivers, clenches his metal fist around the edge of his pillow.

Steve's weight behind him shifts, and he feels a hand on his arm. "You okay Buck?"

Steve's hand is warm, so warm, and the image of Dr. Zola trails from his mind like smoke. He nods into the pillow, and Steve's weight shifts again, but this time away. The warm hand disappears. "Okay. I'll let you get some sleep. I'm..."

Bucky reaches his hand back impulsively, catches Steve's arm. "Steve?" He turns his head, looks back at his friend. Steve is so tall, so tall and he looks so different from... something. Bucky can't remember what. He just knows suddenly that Steve didn't always look like this.

"Yeah Bucky?" Steve's smiling, but he looks tired, and Bucky realizes he doesn't even know where Steve went while he was gone.

"Can you... stay here? Please?" He knows he sounds young, thinks maybe he sounds like a needy kid, but Steve only smiles fondly.

"Yeah, course I can."

He sits back down on the bed, and swings up his legs so he's sitting against the headboard, and Bucky shifts until his back is against Steve's leg. It's a steady, warm line anchoring him in the here and _now_, and he feels Steve sigh and hears a light _thump _as he leans his head back against the wall.

It's all he needs right now, it's all he _wants_. Security. Comfort. He finally lets his eyes close and drifts off.

x

**Right now this feels like the end. I don't know if it will be for sure, because Bucky and Steve are completely owning the entirety of my imagination right now so there's always the chance of another chapter, or maybe another story entirely. I'm not sure yet.**

**Thanks to you all so much for reading! As always, please leave me a review on your way out and let me know what you thought :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all! First things first: I have updated my penname to 'sergeantmicky'. I hope I didn't confuse anyone.**

**This has been a crazy week. Been having some serious pet problems, and I haven't had a good night's sleep in probably a week or more. And yet Bucky and Steve still _insisted _that I get my story ideas down on a page before they all floated out of my head.  
**

**So maybe my sleepless nights are why this one seems quite different from the other chapters. I considered posting it as a separate story but I think it has too many allusions to the earlier chapters of this story to do that. So... let's just say this one's kinda random. Hopefully in a good way.  
**

**It's basically two different story ideas that I had which I felt were too short to write separately. They're both pretty cruel, and I'm a mean person, I'll admit it.**

**WARNING: There is more bad language in this chapter than the others. **

**WARNING 2: There might be an excessive amount of angsty fluff in this one. If it's gonna bother you, you might want to skip this chapter. Hopefully I didn't go overboard. And if I did... hopefully it's still enjoyable.**

**x**

It's a beautiful evening, and they're sitting out on the balcony. It's been two days since Bucky remembered the train, and he's been glued to Steve's side ever since. Even more than usual. And he keeps starting to ask questions, and then stopping before he asks them all the way.

Steve guesses that he's just too scared to hear the answers, and it kind of breaks his heart. And rather similarly, he's kind of scared to tell Bucky the answers, so it works out.

Right now though, it's so peaceful Steve almost feels totally relaxed. The sun is slowly, slowly setting over Manhattan, and there's a lovely gold glow over everything. It's hot, but there's a cool breeze, so it's just right.

Bucky is sitting next to him, curled up on one of the leather chairs Steve carried up here, quiet as a mouse, looking at a _History of Automobiles_ book Steve brought him from the library. Bucky's always liked cars, so it makes sense, and he seems totally fascinated. He may have been around at some point in all of these past decades, but he definitely wasn't noticing cars then.

Steve looks at him, really takes him in. He's looking better. At least Steve thinks he is. Maybe it's just his imagination. He's got better colouring, anyway. Sure, he still has dark shadows under his eyes, because really – _let's be honest, Steve – _he's still not sleeping well. Nightmares every night like always. But there's a different air to him now, as though he's starting to – accept everything, maybe. Move forward.

Steve watches him biting his lip as he reads, and he wants to laugh. If he takes away the long hair and three-day-old beard growth –and the metal arm, naturally – then they could still be in 1943, that's how familiar the whole lip-biting-while-he-focuses thing is.

Feeling Steve's gaze, Bucky looks up quickly, his blue eyes wary. "What?" He sounds guarded, but he has just the slightest smile when he says it, which takes the edge off.

Steve grins. "Nothing. Just thinking..." He hesitates, and Bucky raises his eyebrows, runs a hand through his long dark hair, which actually rests on his shoulders now."Hey, we should cut your hair, Buck! What do you think?"

Bucky looks at him blankly for a moment, then touches his hair again, as though just realizing how long it is. "Why?"

"Because." Steve shrugs. "It's so long, bud. Don't you get tired of it being in your face?"

It's Bucky's turn to shrug now. "Don't really notice."

"You had it short before," Steve says, and he almost goes to get the file to show Bucky but _yeah right, not going there. _"It'd be a lot easier to deal with."

Bucky looks at him for a while as though trying to decide something. "But that was before..." he says quietly, and Steve knows he's thinking about the train accident. He knows in Bucky's mind there's just _Steve saving him from the table_ and then _Falling _and then _Nothing_ and then _Everything Terrible. _

"Just a suggestion," Steve says quickly to distract Bucky from those thoughts. "You might start feeling..." He stops, and then lamely finishes "...different." _What were you going to say Steve? You might start feeling more like the old Bucky? Like a haircut is going to bring back all his memories? Come on._

Part of Steve thinks that's what he himself is hoping – if Bucky has the hair he had in '44, then he will be the Bucky he was in '44. Seriously flawed logic, but at least he's acknowledging it's there.

Bucky is eyeing him carefully, almost _knowingly_, and Steve feels suddenly like Bucky can see right through him, can read every thought.

"Okay," he says suddenly, and Steve stares at him openly.

"What?"

Bucky closes his book with an air of readiness and he's _almost _smiling. "Okay, Steve. Let's cut my hair."

Steve narrows his eyes, smirks. "Only if _you _want to, Buck. Don't let me talk to you into it. And don't – don't do it for me, either."

Bucky sighs, runs his metal hand through his hair. He looks frustrated. "Steve. It's okay. It's... a good idea. You're right, it'll be easier to take care of. So... let's do it."

Steve hesitates, trying to read his best friend. He doesn't want to push Bucky into doing something he doesn't _really _want to do. And even though Bucky's already standing up, looks like he's made up his mind, there's _something_ in his voice, in the set of his shoulders that makes Steve think he doesn't want to do this.

"Buck..." he starts, and Bucky shoots him an annoyed glance, putting his book down on the chair he just left.

"Steve. Let's go. Can you cut it?" He pushes open the door to the bedroom, and Steve follows him, half excited and half nervous.

"No! Are you serious? But Bruce can. He told me the other day..." he trails off, not wanting Bucky to know that he's been discussing cutting his hair before this. "...that he knows how to cut hair." Bucky nods, and he doesn't look at Steve, but Steve has a feeling Bucky knows what he was really going to say: _He told me the other day that he would cut it for you if you wanted._

They head down to Bruce's lab – he's only been here for a few days, in the area visiting with Tony, and he's not staying much longer. In the elevator down Bucky seems calm, but Steve can see that his blue eyes are darkening slowly. He studies his friend (while trying not to look like he's studying him), taking in his right arm – still bandaged and in a sling – and the metal one, on almost full display because he's wearing one of Steve's t-shirts. Bucky seems awkward about it, usually covering it up with a long-sleeved hoodie or jacket, but it's too warm lately to do that and so he's grudgingly started wearing t-shirts. Steve knows he hates it when people stare at it though, and so he makes himself look away. _Jeez Steve, you just flipped on Tony the other day for staring at it like a mad scientist, cut it out. _

The thing is, the arm is really kind of beautiful. It fascinates Steve at the same time as it makes him feel sick in the pit of his stomach because it's attached to _Bucky_, his Bucky, and he can still remember a living flesh arm that used to be there and he knows what they did to attach the metal one and it's still wrong somehow even after all this time.

The elevator stops at the third floor and they walk shoulder-to-shoulder – it's not planned, they just seem to fall into it naturally - to Bruce's lab.

Steve knocks on the door frame, while Bucky falls behind him abruptly. "You busy?" Steve smiles a hello.

"Hi guys." Bruce looks up from his computer, seems surprised to see them. He takes off his glasses. "What's up?"

Steve glances back at Bucky, who isn't looking at him. "Um. Bucky was thinking about cutting his hair, and we were wondering if you could do it."

Bruce's eyes flip from Steve to Bucky, who is looking at the floor, and then back again. He looks a little wary. "Yeah? You sure?"

Bucky looks up then, and his face is set. "Yes sir."

Bruce makes a face and waves his hand. "Bruce is fine. I told you that the other day, remember? I'm not someone that anyone calls 'sir'."

"I'm sorry," Bucky says immediately, his eyes flicking to Steve quickly. Ever since Steve tried to explain to him about Bruce's big green... problem, he's been a bit freaked out about accidentally setting the doctor off.

"No worries, it's –" Bruce begins, but he's cut off.

"Yeah, I'll never call you sir." They all turn to see Tony sauntering up, one eyebrow raised, a bag of chips in his hand. "Hey, if isn't my two favourite old dudes. Now it's a party! What brings you two down here to Bruce's crib?" He leans on the wall, and Steve sighs.

"Bruce is gonna cut Bucky's hair for him."

Both of Tony's eyebrows shoot up immediately. "Are you serious? You mean Aragorn over there isn't going to be Aragorn anymore?"

Steve doesn't understand that reference, and neither does Bucky, so they just glare at Tony silently until Bruce interrupts, a slight smirk on his face as he glances at Tony. "Not to rush you guys or anything... but I'm kind of tight on time so if you want to do this we have to get going."

Steve glances back at Bucky, whose shoulders are tight, braced as if he's preparing himself for something to run into him. Or someone to hit him. "Buck? You sure you want to do this?"

Bucky hesitates, and then his blue eyes meet Steve's and he seems to make up his mind. "Yes." He walks past Steve into Bruce's lab, and Steve watches him go, surprised and also slightly proud but he's not sure why.

Bruce pulls a stool away from one of the tables and pats it. "I'll go get the scissors."

He leaves the room, and Bucky looks at the stool and then at Steve, and there's a questioning, confused look in his eyes that makes Steve's chest hurt.

"It's okay Buck. You can sit."

Bucky doesn't move. He's staring at the stool with dark, almost frightened eyes, and Steve feels a tiny prickle of worry starting in his chest.

"Mind if I watch, Il Capitano?" Tony is leaning on the door frame, holding his bag of chips like a baby in his arms, and Steve sighs again, kind of loudly.

"Whatever. Just don't... talk."

"Gotcha, I'm not a big talker anyway." He grins and winks, and Steve rolls his eyes.

Bruce arrives a moment later carrying a towel and scissors, and he throws Tony an amused glance and then smiles gently when he sees that Bucky is still standing. "You can sit, Bucky, whenever you're ready." He stands patiently next to the stool.

Bucky hesitates, and he looks at Steve again and then at Tony, and then very long at Bruce, who smiles reassuringly. Steve folds his arms and waits. _Why am I nervous? _He meets Bucky's wide eyes with a smile of his own, and finally Bucky sits, but he looks very nervous.

"Bucky, are you sure you –" he starts to say again, and Bucky nods quickly.

"Just... stay." He says it very quietly, like he doesn't want the others to hear, and Steve takes a step closer automatically. Bucky is openly trembling, his body shaking as if its suddenly freezing in the lab.

"Not going anywhere," Steve says firmly, hoping his proximity will calm his friend. He feels Bruce's gaze on his face, but he doesn't meet the other man's eyes.

"Okay," Bruce says after a slightly long pause. "If everybody's ready..." He puts the towel down on the metal table next to him, and Bucky's eyes flick over so fast it reminds Steve of a cat or some other predatory animal. He watches Bucky take in the towel and then the scissors as Bruce picks them up, and there's something there, something's not right. Bucky's eyes darken and widen and Steve's stomach drops, he's just about to say _Bruce stop don't _but it's too late. Just as Bruce starts to bring the scissors towards Bucky's hair, there's a flash of movement and a sound almost like a growl and Bucky is off the stool, gripping Bruce's wrist in his metal hand, his face twisted in a mask of fear and anger, and he shoves Bruce away from him so hard it's really more like he threw him. Bruce hits the table behind him and falls to his knees, and Bucky tries to go for the door, sees Tony blocking his way, and ends up pressed against the wall, panting like a terrified animal.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Steve holds out his hands toward Bucky, his mind caught between _Oh damn Bruce don't change_ and _Bucky Bucky Bucky_. He's so shocked by what just occurred in literally a split second that it takes his mind a moment to catch up.

Bucky's chin is up, he doesn't look angry, he looks terrified. His eyes, blown wide with fear, are fixed on the scissors laying under the table.

Bruce is on all fours, a look of shock on his face, and Tony is suddenly walking swiftly by Steve toward him, already talking. "It's cool guys, it's all okay dude? Just chill, it's fine." He puts a hand on Bruce's back and Steve turns his attention to Bucky, who is shaking so hard his teeth are chattering.

Steve approaches him slowly but purposefully, and Bucky barely even flinches when Steve touches his arm. "Hey, hey, it's okay," Steve croons in a low voice, and he pulls his friend down to the floor as he speaks. "Sit with me for a second. It's okay Buck." He puts his back against the wall and Bucky pretty much collapses next to him, his shoulder pressing up against Steve's. He's breathing as though he just ran a marathon.

"You okay? Talk to me." Steve tries to get his attention, which is still on the stupid scissors, and he has to move right into Bucky's line of sight before his friend will focus on him at all. When he does though, his whole face changes, going from fear to _shame_ within only a few seconds.

"S-Steve," he begins, and his voice has the tiniest hitch in it, "I don't think I want to cut my hair."

Steve huffs out a sad laugh and leans his head against the wall. "It's okay Buck. You don't need to."

He watches Bucky's wide eyes take in the overturned stool, the scissors on the floor, and finally Bruce, sitting up on his knees now, looking slightly shaken. Tony is still kneeling in front of him, a hand on his shoulder.

Bucky's eyebrows go up in the middle, and he shudders. "Sorry, sorry. Steve I'm sorry... I don't know..."

"Hey, hey." Steve puts a hand on the back of his neck, shakes him fondly."Don't apologize. It's fine."

"I guess I don't like scissors," Bucky says in a small voice, and he sighs shakily and leans his head on Steve's shoulder.

Bruce stands up across the room and smiles weakly at Tony. "Not today. Thank God." He looks at Bucky's stricken face and his own softens. "Lots of guys wear their hair long these days."

Steve doesn't even want to _think_ about why Bucky doesn't like scissors.

After that, they don't talk about cutting his hair again.

X

Two and a half weeks since that night when Bucky finally returned to him. Not technically that long, really, but Bucky has made leaps and bounds toward remembering his past – he remembers so many things now. Little random things sometimes - so random that Steve has to actually really think about it before remembering that _Oh yeah Buck, you're right, that did happen! _

Every time he remembers something new, and Steve confirms it, Bucky's eyes lighten to a shade of blue exactly like the sky on an early spring day, one of those days when there's still a bit of snow on the ground but everything is melting and the young green buds are coming out on the trees and you know that summer is just around the corner. And he smiles, too, a real smile, a genuinely happy smile - the same smile that every single girl in Brooklyn used to die for, calling it a _killer smile_, and once they saw that smile Steve knew he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell with any of those girls, not while Bucky was around.

The first time he sees Bucky smile like that – after he'd asked Steve _Do you remember getting... giant pretzels? I don't know where we were but I remember you holding one and... it was bigger than your whole head. _And Steve had burst out laughing, because he remembers, he remembers that so well – it was at Coney Island, not the same time he'd thrown up after the Cyclone, a different time – and even back then Bucky had literally _said_ to him that the pretzel was bigger than his head. Actually, his exact words had been _Steve, that pretzel is the size of _two_ of your heads put together_ but... close enough.

"Yeah Buck," he'd said, grinning like a complete fool, "I definitely remember that. Coney Island."

And Bucky had smiled, a little smile at first, like he thought maybe Steve was just humouring him, and then he'd obviously seen something in Steve's face that told him otherwise and he'd smiled fully, teeth and everything, and it was like the sun coming out after a long storm.

Steve had had to turn away to hide the fact that his eyes were suddenly damp, but he'd hugged Bucky for almost a full minute after that and Bucky hadn't complained one bit. _We're making so much progress_._ It's going so well. _Almost too well.

Two and a half weeks later, something happens that sets them back.

They're having a barbecue on the roof of Stark Tower. It's a beautiful summer day, and it just so happened that Bruce, Clint, and Natasha were all visiting at the same time. So Tony had insisted that they have a barbecue.

"_What are the chances of this many of us being in the same place again for like, an age_?" Tony had said. _"Now that S.H.I.E.L.D. is, well, kaput, somehow I don't think there's gonna be too many family reunions. Sooo better take the chance when we have it, am I right? Have a little _soiree_ with all my long-distance penpals?" _

And so here they are, sitting around in reclining lawn chairs on top of Stark Tower, and Tony is wearing an apron that says "Kiss the Cook" and going on and on to Bruce about some kind of science stuff that goes way over Steve's head. But even with Tony's endless rambling, Steve has to admit that this was a good idea. The sky is completely empty of clouds, and there's a nice light breeze to keep everything from being ridiculously hot. The sounds of the city are far below them, and being up here with everyone is actually pretty nice.

Bucky is sitting right next to him, his metal arm blinding in the sunlight, and he looks incredibly relaxed. Steve's pretty sure he actually might be sleeping – his head is back against the headrest and his eyes are closed. Wearing black jeans and a blue t-shirt with, unbelievably, a picture of Steve's shield on it – _where the heck did he get that? Tony likely – _he looks even younger than usual.

A bit away from them, Natasha and Clint are just standing looking out over the city, and every time Natasha turns to look at Clint, and Steve catches a glimpse of her face, he can't help thinking that she looks so damn _happy _to be there with him_. _It's nice to see.

Dinner is great. Perfectly barbecued hamburgers and hotdogs – Steve has to admit, Tony is pretty damn good at barbecuing – and Caesar salad with lots of croutons (Steve loves croutons, and he notices that Bucky takes extra too). Steve has two hamburgers _and _two hotdogs, because he's hungry, and also, lets be honest – one of each is just not going to fill him up. Bucky has two hamburgers, and that makes Steve grin like a proud father because he's just so happy to see his friend's appetite so good.

After, they sit around and talk, and Steve joins in the conversation but Bucky is very quiet, and every time Steve looks at him his eyes are a little further closed.

"Falling asleep, Winter Smoulder?"

Tony's voice makes Bucky jump awake, and his eyes leap around to each of them, the distinct look of a trapped animal evident on his face before he sees Steve and visibly relaxes, flushing slightly pink when Clint chuckles.

Natasha nudges him gently, but Clint just smiles. "Been there. That's all."

Steve nudges Bucky with his elbow and smiles, and Bucky shoots him a contented look before sinking back in his chair.

It's then that it happens – there's a blinding flash of lightning, and the bolt hits the lightning rod at the top of Stark Tower. They all jump, and Tony gives a yell of shock.

Only moments later, Thor lands lightly on the roof, a jovial grin on his face, but Steve can only look at Bucky. His friend is cowering on the ground – Steve didn't even see him move from his chair – metal arm raised over his head in defense, and behind that arm Steve glimpses his face and it is pure, unadorned terror.

"Buck –" Steve reaches for him, but without warning Bucky's metal arm shoots out and the next thing Steve knows, he's on his back on the ground about ten feet away and Bucky is gone.

"Shit! Steve, are you okay?" Natasha's moving quickly toward him, but Steve is already up off the ground, ignoring the pain in his chest. "Where did he go?"

Clint points at the door to the stairs, and Steve takes off, barely even noticing Thor's shocked face.

He can't hear Bucky on the stairs, so he must have moved at an incredible speed to already have reached the first floor.

Steve's inner dialogue is just a jumble of curse words, accompanied every once in a while by _Bucky. _He reaches the floor just in time to see the elevator doors closing. "Bucky!" He sprints forward, but he's too late.

He paces in front of the door, hammering the elevator button, cursing Thor to Asgard and back. _Why? Why why why? _In his mind he knows Thor didn't know – he hasn't been anywhere near Earth for at least a month or two, so he would have no way of knowing about Bucky at all. But _still_. "Talk about bad _timing_," Steve growls, just as the elevator arrives. "_Finally_." He punches at the fourteenth floor button, one hand frantically combing through his hair. _Two options. He could be trying to leave the building, or else he went to our room. _He's doubting the leaving the building option, because for one he doesn't think Bucky actually wants to be out there alone again, and two, he's not even sure that Stark Tower would allow him to leave, with all the high-tech security systems Tony's got going on.

The bedroom door is closed when Steve gets there, and he knocks lightly before thinking _To hell with it _and he pushes it open. "Bucky?" His heart immediately sinks somewhere to the vicinity of his ankles.

Bucky is curled up on the floor, in the exact same spot he was in when he remembered the whole train accident, his metal hand braced against the wall and his head down against his drawn up knees.

"Bucky! Oh man. Bucky are you okay?" Steve runs across the room, dropping to his own knees in front of his friend, and Bucky jerks his arm back as soon as Steve touches it, and he's fixed with a pair of terrified dark eyes. "

Don't _touch _me!"

There's no recognition in his eyes, only naked fear, and he's shaking so hard it looks almost fake.

Steve backs up a little, heart pounding. "Bucky. It's me."

"Shut _up_!" It's almost a whine. Bucky's heels push at the floor, trying to get further back against the wall, but there's nowhere to go.

"Buck, I'm your friend, remember? It's Steve."

"I don't _know _you!" Bucky's chin goes up, his teeth chattering, eyes wild and unfamiliar.

Steve's had enough. _I don't want to do this again, Bucky. Please. _"Yes you do Bucky. It's Steve, remember? I'm your best friend. Steve Rogers." He's still not ready to get in the path of that metal arm again, but he leans a bit closer. "Remember the giant pretzels? And sleeping on the couch cushions? And the helicarrier and the hospital? Come on Buck."

Bucky drops his head back to his knees, and for about thirty seconds, Steve is actually afraid that everything they've worked for over the past two and a half weeks has been destroyed. But then he hears a quiet sound, a whimper, and Bucky looks up at him and the pain and fear and raw _need _on his face is enough to make tears spring to Steve's eyes in an instant.

"Steve," is all he says, and then he starts to cry. Not just a few tears slipping quietly down his cheeks, no, these are terrified, broken sobs, gut-wrenching and obviously long held in.

"_Please _don't let them do it again. _P-please. _I don't want to f-f-forget again! Please Steve don't let them take me away again... Don't let them wipe me! _Please._"

He reaches out his metal hand toward Steve and the action is so incredibly helpless, so pleading, Steve can only stare at him for a few seconds, horrified, and then he looks past the hand into Bucky's eyes and the tears pouring down his best friend's face and he sees a kid, a young kid who has been through way too much and had literally everything taken from him and been through hell and back and just can't deal with it anymore.

"Oh Buck." He reaches out and takes Bucky's hand, pulls him forward until their foreheads are almost touching, looks directly into his best friend's eyes. "Bucky. Listen to me okay? I'm never going to let them touch you again. They'll never hurt you again. _Nobody _is ever going to hurt you again. I swear. I swear to _God_. Do you understand?"

They just stare at each other for a long moment, and Bucky nods just the tiniest bit and then he starts to cry harder, and Steve pulls him against his chest and lets him sob, rubbing his back and just _being_ there as Bucky cries into his shoulder, cries like he hasn't cried in years. He's still whispering _"Please, please..." _ever so quietly the whole time.

It's maybe ten minutes of good straight crying, and he's limp after, like all that crying stole every bit of his strength, and he just leans against Steve, his metal fingers curled in the front of Steve's shirt. Steve keeps his arms around Bucky, and they just sit there until Bucky sniffs quietly and speaks. "I saw - I saw electricity, Steve." His voice is raw and sounds very young.

"I know. It was lightning. It was just Thor. You haven't met him yet. Obviously." Steve sighs and leans his head back against the wall. "We didn't know he was gonna show up today... I'm so sorry Buck."

"It's okay," Bucky says quietly, but Steve knows it's not. He knows what it made Bucky think of, and he knows what horrible - still very fresh - memories it brought back.

"Not your fault," Bucky adds, and he turns his head so his face is buried in Steve's shoulder. They sit like that for a long time.

x

Later, there's a knock at the door, and Steve opens it after reminding Bucky he's totally safe - Bucky still doesn't move from his place on the floor and looks positively terrified - and when he opens it Thor is standing outside, looking for all the world like a sad, guilty golden retriever, even in his Asgardian armor.

"Hello, Friend Steve," he says solemnly. "I would like to apologize to you and your friend, Mr. Barnes. I did not mean to alarm him. I simply meant to surprise all of you. It was meant as a jest. May I speak with your friend?" He looks past Steve hopefully into the bedroom.

"I don't know." Steve looks back uncertainly at Bucky, he can just see the top of his head, he's sunk down so low on the wall. "It's kind of not a good time. Maybe later."

"I understand." Thor bows his head. "Again, I apologize. It was... foolish of me. I hope Mr. Barnes can forgive me." He leaves, shaking the floor a little, and Steve closes the door with a sigh.

x

The night that follows is the worst one Bucky's had in a week or more. Steve tries to get him to sleep, but Bucky keeps twitching and looking over his shoulder at the door, and his eyes are red from crying and still so afraid, and Steve can't eventhink of leaving him alone, so they just sit on Steve's bed all night, shoulder to shoulder. Steve can feel Bucky shaking constantly, and when he looks at his friend his head is down and his dark hair is like a curtain between them.

They sit in silence for a long time - Steve can't even hear Tony's music at all so he either went to bed early or he's thinking of Bucky and not playing it - and then Bucky says very quietly, "Do you remember the night after you pulled me off that table?"

Steve glances at him quickly, surprised, and then he nods. "Yeah I do."

Bucky lifts his head and meets Steve's eyes, and there's so many ghosts back there behind that blue gaze, so many. "I remember too. I remember camping in the forest and I wouldn't sleep, I was still so scared and I was - I was afraid of having nightmares."

It's the most confident Bucky's been about any of his memories so far, and Steve smiles.

Bucky looks at him with tired, sad eyes. "You stayed up all night with me. You didn't complain once. Just like now."

Steve shrugs and answers honestly."Why would I complain? You're my best friend. I'd do anything for you."

Bucky's mouth quirks in what might be a smile. "Something tells me you've done a lot for me and I just haven't remembered it all yet."

Steve laughs and shakes his head, throws an arm around Bucky's shoulders, pulls him over so their heads are leaning together.

"You think? Let me tell you something, bud. You did more for me than I could ever do for you. And that's the truth, Buck."

Bucky makes a little snorting noise, sighs, and leans a bit heavier against Steve, closing his eyes.

Steve sits and watches the lights go slowly by outside the windows and eventually the sun come up and he has a crick in his neck from leaning his head against Bucky's but he doesn't move a muscle, and he thinks he would sit with Bucky every night from now until forever if he had to.

_He was there for me all those years... all those years that I was too weak to look after myself and never - not once - did he complain. Now the tables are turned. And nobody is ever going to hurt him again. I won't let them. I will kill them. I will annihilate them. Just watch me._

_x_

**Please please leave me a review and let me know what you thought :)**

**I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!  
**

*****Oh, been thinking of writing another chapter in which Bucky gets really sick and Steve's got to look after him... Maybe too fluffy? Thoughts?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well it's a quarter to 4 in the morning and here we are... lol. Bucky and Steve wouldn't leave me alone until it was DONE and published. :P**

** As always I want to thank everyone so much who reviewed last chapter! I also want to apologize for not having the time to answer all of your lovely reviews! Real Life has still been kicking my butt quite handily - but I hope all of you know that I appreciate your kind words SO MUCH. THANK YOU!**

**And I'd like to thank everyone too for being so enthusiastic about the idea of this chapter! The response was quite overwhelmingly positive and I'm so glad. I really hope it's what you all expected! I think I really did manage to keep the fluff to a minimum and keep the boys in character. *crossing fingers***

**Hope you enjoy!**

x

"See anything you like?" Steve asks hopefully, turning to look at his friend.

Bucky's shoulders are a little hunched, his hands jammed in his pockets (the metal one is covered with a black glove) and under the fluorescent lights of the clothing store he seems to have shrunk into himself.

"I don't know." He looks at the racks of clothing uncertainly, and then back to Steve, as though waiting for his help.

"Okay." Steve puts his hands in his pockets, too. "Well what do you like? What do you want to get?"

Bucky's shoulders twitch under his blue cotton jacket and he looks at the floor. "I don't know what I like."

Steve works hard to keep his face from turning into a mask of pity. It's been a month and a half since Bucky came back to him, and all this time Bucky's been sharing Steve's clothes or wearing things that the other Avengers picked up for him, so Steve had decided this morning that it was high time for Bucky to get his own clothes and so here they are. The thing is, it's only the second time since Bucky came back to him that they've left Stark Tower. The first time they'd just gone for a walk around the block. This – this bright store with new sounds and smells and _people _ is a different story entirely.

_Although it was a good choice to come out here on a Tuesday morning... not that busy. _

Bucky is still nervous though – his shoulders keep twitching and he's jumped about a billion times. And he's keeping the metal hand in his pocket all the time even though he has the glove on, as though he's afraid someone's going to see it. He's sticking so close to Steve he keeps bumping into him as they walk – not that Steve is bothered by it at all. Every time Bucky bumps into him he says "Sorry", which kills Steve a little because _seriously? You don't have to apologize every time Buck __–_and every time he just pats Bucky's arm or back and says "It's okay".

But Steve is sure this is a good thing. Bucky's got to get out of the Tower at some point, start adjusting to a regular life, and it has been a month and a half. So Steve is of course willing to put up with as much bumping shoulders as he has to. _Plus, Bucky and I kind of used to do that all the time anyway. _

He remembers how after he'd had the serum, after he became Captain America -how they'd bump shoulders purposely. It was a game – Bucky used to bump into him purposely when he wasn't looking to see if he could get Steve to stumble at all (he couldn't), and after a while Steve started bumping him back, gently of course, and every time Bucky would stumble just a little bit cause Steve was just too massive at that point. It always made him laugh though.

He pulls himself back to the present, smiling a little, and Bucky is still just standing there looking at the clothes blankly, his eyebrows lifting in the middle. He looks at Steve again, and he looks like a lost puppy.

"I don't know. Anything. It doesn't matter." He looks at the floor again. "You can pick. I'll be fine with anything."

Steve clenches his jaw. _Yeah, cause Hydra never let him make any choices. They just made all his decisions for him and they never asked him what he thought. Or wanted. _

"Nope. I'm not going to choose for you. But I'll give you some ideas. C'mere." Steve pats him on the back and heads over to the display of t-shirts. "You want t-shirts. They're the most comfortable. What colours do you like?"

Bucky's eyebrows lower again, and he rolls his shoulders back as though he's uncomfortable, avoiding Steve's gaze. He's struggling, Steve can tell. "Buck?" he says gently.

"Blue?" Bucky says suddenly, and he looks at Steve fast, as though waiting to be reprimanded.

"Awesome. Blue is my favourite too," Steve grins at him and picks up a blue one. "What else?"

Bucky chooses white, black, and red too, and Steve grabs a couple of each. They're cheap and it's always a good idea to have a lot of them.

After that they pick out jeans too, and in the shoe section Bucky is insistent on leather boots and not shoes – which Steve puts down to his military background showing up.

The best part of the day for Steve though is when he points out a black leather jacket to his friend and Bucky's whole face lights up. It's obviously personal taste, because Steve highly doubts anything that Hydra planted in his mind would bring that much of a positive reaction.

Bucky goes into the dressing room to try it on – too nervous of his metal arm showing even for a second to swap the jackets on the store floor – and when he comes out to show Steve there's an air to him that wasn't there before – it's not confidence (_not just yet) _but the jacket's definitely doing something good for him – his eyes are light, light blue and he's looking at his reflection in the mirror with something other than confusion and self-loathing, so needless to say, they take it too.

They head for socks next and _at least this will be easy. _ "Black okay?" Steve asks, and when Bucky doesn't answer he turns back.

Bucky is standing just behind him, his hand on the cart, and he's frowning, his eyes somewhere between the floor and the bottom row of socks.

"Buck?" Steve raises his eyebrows. "You okay?"

Bucky glances at him, still frowning. "Something's wrong."

"What? What do you mean?" Steve glances around quickly, his first thought being _Hydra. _

But Bucky just puts a hand up to his neck, touches it lightly. "It hurts."

"What does? Your neck?"

"No, it hurts to swallow." Bucky frowns again, looks up at Steve finally. "I can't remember."

"You can't remember what?" Steve is lost.

"What that means." Bucky looks frustrated. "I know it means something, I just can't remember what."

It's Steve's turn to frown now. "It could mean you're getting sick, Buck. That's usually what it means."

Bucky's face clears abruptly, he smiles almost brightly. "Yeah, that's it! It was right there..." His voice trails off. "I haven't been sick in a... long time. I can't - I can't even remember what it feels like..." He frowns again. "I don't think I get sick."

It never occurred to Steve that Bucky would have not been sick at all since he fell from the train. Of course, it kind of makes sense though. With all the stuff Hydra was pumping into him all the time, and being frozen for ages and only brought out for short periods of time (_whenever they wanted to use him, bastards)_, there really isn't any reason why he ever would have been become sick.

"Well it doesn't mean you're definitely sick, Buck. Maybe your throat's just dry. These stores can be bad for that." Steve grabs some black socks off the wall.

After that they have to go pick up some things for Tony - who gave them a whole list – and by the time they finally reach the check out, it has become painfully obvious that Bucky really is getting sick. Over the last hour, he's grown increasingly pale, and he's even quieter than usual. He looks more and more miserable as the clerk rings out their purchases, and by the time they get back to the car and have everything loaded up, he's shivering in his jacket despite the warm weather and winces every time he swallows.

"Sorry Buck – looks like you actually are sick," Steve says sympathetically as he closes the trunk. He pats Bucky on the arm as he heads for the driver's side. "Come on. Let's get you home."

Bucky curls up against the passenger door and leans his head against the window the whole way back. Steve keeps throwing worried glances at him while still keeping his eyes on the road as much as possible – Bucky's starting to look a bit flushed.

_Man, that came on super fast. That's not good. _

_x_

When they get back to the Tower, Steve has to actually physically pull Bucky out of the car and steer him inside – he's walking a bit like a drunk, and keeps putting one hand up to his head.

"You okay Buck?" Steve asks in the elevator.

"I'm dizzy." Bucky's eyes are closed, and he's leaning against the wall, head too. "I don't get sick," he says again, sounding frustrated and a little scared.

"Everybody gets sick, Bucky," Steve replies, frowning sympathetically. "I guess you've just been lucky."

Bucky doesn't answer, and Steve immediately feels like an idiot. "I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay Steve," Bucky says quietly, and he cracks open one eye and smirks at Steve, but Steve is still mentally kicking himself all the way up to the fourteenth floor.

_Good one, Steve. Lucky, huh? The guy who's been used as an assault weapon for Hydra for the last 70 years? Had his memory wiped whenever they felt like it? Frozen for years at a time? Real lucky. _

Bucky heads straight to their room when the elevator stops, and Steve follows him to the door. "Get some sleep okay? You'll feel better."

Bucky grunts in reply, and he's already laying motionless on the bed when Steve closes the door.

X

Steve busies himself with cutting the tags off everything they bought and folding it up to be put away later. He's not going to bug Bucky right now while he's sleeping. The Tower is pretty quiet – Tony is down in his workshop, and as far as Steve's aware, the only other Avenger who's in the Tower is Clint, but he doesn't know where he is.

When he's done, he feels a bit lost. The thing is, he's got so used to having Bucky by his side constantly – _just like before __–_ that it's really, really weird to not have him here now. Usually they have the exact same hours of sleeping and waking, so there's never a time when either of them is apart.

He decides to watch TV, because that's what he always sees everyone doing when they're bored, and there is some pretty cool stuff to watch. He ends up watching something called a _Friends marathon, _and it makes him chuckle even though he doesn't understand almost any of the jokes. It's addictive, too, and he doesn't even realize how much time has passed until he notices it's getting pretty dark outside.

"Oops," he mutters, and stands up abruptly. _Bucky's been sleeping a long time. Better go check on him. _

He opens the door very, very slowly, and pokes his head in. Bucky is laying on the bed, on his back, all sprawled out with the sheets wrapped around his legs. Steve watches him for a long moment, but he doesn't move, so he starts to close the door again.

"Thought – thought you said I'd feel _better_."

Bucky's rough voice makes him jump. His friend hasn't even moved.

"Hey," Steve says, laughing a little. He walks in and closes the door behind him. "How do you feel?"

Bucky clears his throat, and it sounds like it hurts. "Way worse." He lifts his arm a little as though thinking about getting up, but then it just flops tiredly back down onto the bed. "I'm tired."

Steve sits down on the edge of the bed, smiling sympathetically. "Sorry Buck. Wanna come have dinner? I just realized how hungry I am. I've been watching this show for hours and man..." He trails off, Bucky is just laying there with his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, clearly breathing heavier than normal.

Steve studies him for a few moments. "Buck?"

Bucky's only answer is a very quiet "Mmm".

"Want to come eat?" Steve asks again.

Bucky sighs and shifts a little, frowning even with his eyes closed, then brings his metal arm up and covers his eyes with it. "I'm so _hot_."

"Can I feel your forehead?" Steve asks, already leaning in to touch him, and Bucky shifts his arm just enough that Steve can lay the back of his hand against Bucky's forehead. "Whoa Buck – you're really burning up."

Bucky sighs heavily and doesn't say anything in reply.

Steve eyes him. "No wonder you feel so bad. Look, I think you should eat something. If you don't you're only going to get –"

"_No_. Steve." Bucky's voice is still raw and gruff, but Steve can detect a definite note of irriation. "I don't _want_ to. I'm not hungry. I feel like - bad." He rolls over and buries his face in the pillow, and it's Steve's turn to sigh heavily.

"Okay. I won't bug you. Let me know if you need anything."

Bucky doesn't answer, and Steve leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Honestly – it makes sense that Bucky would get sick. He's been so run down and stressed since – well, ages – but especially since the whole helicarrier thing. _I'm actually surprised it took this long. _

Steve makes himself dinner – Kraft Dinner, because he loves it and also he's never really been much of a cook – and sits back down in front of the TV.

Probably about an hour later, he hears the bedroom door open and looks up to see Bucky standing in the doorway – he's wearing his jeans still and one of Steve's wifebeaters – and he looks exhausted and miserable. His dark hair is messy and damp, and his cheeks are very flushed. He starts to walk over, and Steve doesn't say anything, he just waits until Bucky stops next to his chair and stands there, arms crossed, silent.

"What –" Bucky clears his throat. "What are you watching?" He sounds about ten years old, and seriously ill.

Steve feels a flash of pity.

"_Friends_," he replies, smiling up at Bucky. "Want to watch with me?"

Bucky hesitates for a long moment, his eyes flicking to Steve's chair as though he's trying to decide if there's room enough for him to sit there too, and then he goes to the couch and pretty much collapses, slouching limply across the seat with his legs stretched out in front of him.

Steve eyes him. "Feel worse?"

Bucky closes his eyes and nods, wincing as he swallows. "Everything – everything hurts."

Steve nods. "Sorry Buck. Maybe Tony has something you can take..."

"I'm not taking anything," Bucky snaps, and Steve stares at him in surprise. His friend's blue eyes are hard and – yes, scared.

"Okay," Steve says calmly. "I was just thinking –"

"No." Bucky looks away, clearly done with the discussion, but his face betrays the sudden panic he'd felt at the thought of "taking something".

Steve kicks himself mentally. Bucky hasn't taken a single type of medication since he got here – not even an aspirin. He doesn't seem to trust it, and to be honest, Steve can't blame him.

They sit there in silence for a while longer, and Steve keeps glancing at Bucky out of the corner of his eye. Bucky is watching the TV with dull blue eyes, but there's a certain fascination there too – even through his illness, and Steve can't help but smile.

After a bit, Bucky lifts up his metal arm and puts his hand against his forehead, clearly trying to cool himself off. He's leaning into his hand, clearly exhausted, and Steve fiddles with the remote control and tries to decide whether or not he should make another suggestion.

The thing is, Bucky has _always_ been someone who doesn't handle being sick well. He'd always been extremely caring when Steve got sick, ordering him to eat and huddling up with him on the couch if he got too cold, making sure he stayed hydrated – but whenever Bucky got sick, he turned into a grumpy kid and wouldn't let Steve anywhere near him. _Bucky's never liked to seem weak, _Steve thinks fondly. _It's nice to know some things don't change. But at the same time, things have changed... for both of us. I'm not that skinny kid anymore. I'm stronger now... in a way, stronger than Bucky. _He's just turning that thought over in his mind, getting used to it, when there's a loud clanking sound at the door and they both jump.

Tony is walking stiffly into the room, one leg encased in what appears to be part of the Iron Man suit. Steve raises his eyebrows, starts to say _I thought you were done with all that_ but Tony shakes his head. "Don't ask."

He heads awkwardly across the room toward the bar and takes down a bottle of whiskey. "What are you two Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boys up to?"

Steve is about to answer when Tony cuts him off. "Whoa Frosty! You look like a freaking ghost. What happened?"

Bucky doesn't move his body at all, but his eyes slide over slowly and he glares at Tony with what Steve can only describe as an icy, murderous gaze, and the billionaire has the sense to look somewhat uneasy, quickly looking away and shooting back a shot of alcohol.

"He's sick," Steve pipes up quickly, and gets up to take his empty bowl to the sink. "He's got a fever." He takes a quick glance at Bucky again but his friend has gone back to staring blankly at the TV screen, so he says very quietly, "He won't eat anything."

Tony shrugs. "Did you offer him chicken soup?"

"Oh." Steve pauses. _Huh. _"I didn't think of that. Do we have any?"

"Um, of course?" Tony rolls his eyes. "It's the only thing I eat when I'm sick – Pepper knows that and so there's probably about a hundred cans in the cupboard. Apparently I can be a bit of a... well, a 'damn impossible man-baby' when I'm sick. Pepper's words, not mine. Whatever." He turns around, clunks over to the cupboard, and takes down a can. "Here you go. Enjoy. Don't say I never gave you anything," he calls in Bucky's direction as he clanks out of the room, but Bucky doesn't even look up.

Steve looks at the can of soup for a long moment, and then he makes up his mind. He goes over to the couch and sits beside Bucky, who glances at him with tired eyes. He really does look awful – way too tired and sweaty – and his blue eyes are far too shiny as well.

"Bucky," Steve begins, "I'm gonna feel your forehead again." He doesn't wait for Bucky to nod, he just touches him – he's way hotter than before – and he takes the opportunity to smooth Bucky's damp hair back away from his face. "Buck. You're really hot. It's not good. Here's what I think, okay? Are you listening?"

"Yes." Bucky finally seems to be giving all his attention to Steve, and Steve feels another prickle of pity. His friend looks beyond miserable, and Steve knows Bucky isn't really _trying _to be grumpy, he's just exhausted. "Okay Buck. I want you to go take a shower, all right? Trust me, it's going to make you feel better. I _promise _this time_. _ And while you're in there, I'm going to make you dinner. And it's going to be good. Trust me. You'll like it." He smiles encouragingly.

Bucky stares at him for a long moment, his tired blue eyes focusing and unfocusing on Steve's face, and then he frowns. "But... you can't cook, Steve."

Taken aback, Steve starts to laugh. "You remember that about me, huh?"

"I definitely remember that. I remember... lasagna. A really bad lasagna." Bucky almost smiles - his eyes are so far away - and Steve laughs harder.

"I tried, Buck! You've never let me forget about that. I don't know _why_ half the noodles didn't cook. Whatever it was, it wasn't my fault."

Bucky is looking at him with something Steve can only describe as fondness. His eyes are getting lighter. "Okay. It wasn't your fault. Whatever you say." He sighs, pressing his head against the back of the couch. "Fine. I'll take a shower. If you insist."

Steve tries not to let his triumph show on his face, but he knows Bucky can read it anyway. He stands up and offers his hand, expecting Bucky to knock it away or glare at him, but instead his friend willingly takes it and lets Steve pull him up. He's quite heavy, giving over almost all his weight – Steve can feel how tired he is just through that one movement – and when they're both standing Bucky doesn't let go of his hand right away. He's wavering a little where he stands, and Steve puts a hand on his arm to steady him. "You okay?"

"Dizzy," Bucky says, frowning, and then he seems to realize he's still holding onto Steve's hand and lets go.

"Are you gonna be okay getting to the shower?" Steve asks, his hands still held out around Bucky warily, like a shield, just in case.

Bucky shoots him a look. "Yes Steve." He starts toward the bedroom, glancing back just before he opens the door, eyes softer. "Thanks though."

X

Steve hears the shower turn on a few minutes later, and he sighs, relieved both that Bucky got there safely and that he'd managed to get through to his friend even with how frustrated and sick he is.

He busies himself with finding a pot and searching for the can opener - which he finds stuffed under the sink with a bag of onions for some reason – and turns on the stove, glad to be doing something helpful.

By the time the soup is almost hot, Bucky appears in the doorway again, wet hair slicked back, wearing one of Steve's white t-shirts and red plaid pajama pants.

"Hey! You look better," Steve says with a grin. It's completely true. Bucky's eyes are brighter (and not in a bad way) and he doesn't look quite so flushed anymore.

"I feel better," Bucky admits, ducking his head a little, and a couple of strands of hair fall over his face.

"Your dinner's done too." Steve takes a bowl down out of the cupboard, feeling rather importantly like a pro chef, and pours all of the soup into it. "Come sit at the table." He sets the bowl down and looks up – Bucky is watching him with an odd expression, his eyebrows are furrowed and he looks almost sad.

"What?" Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head suddenly, like he's waking from a dream. "Nothing. I just..." he pauses, and Steve doesn't miss how he swallows – "...thank you." He comes over and sits down, and after the first spoonful, he smiles – a real, pleased one that makes his eyes light up too – and then he doesn't say anything again until he's completely done.

Steve lingers nearby washing the pot and pretending not to watch, but he can't stop glancing over. There's a funny tightness in his chest that won't go away when he looks at Bucky eating so enthusiastically, with his wet hair and his slightly-too-big t-shirt and his almost clean-shaven jaw.

_Not that long ago I thought he was gone forever. Just a couple of months ago... he was just a memory. James Buchanan Barnes was just a sharp, painful memory __–__ a vast empty chasm in my life that would never stop haunting me. If anybody told me I would be looking after him and making him chicken soup in a couple of months time... I would have called them crazy._

He swallows hard and makes himself smile when Bucky looks at him, his blue eyes light. "That was so good." He stands up and picks up the bowl, but halts and quickly puts a hand to his head. "Whoa, still dizzy."

"I'll get it." Steve hurries over and picks up the empty bowl. "Just go sit down Buck."

"Thanks Steve. I... I appreciate it." Bucky smiles at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and heads over to the couch, hiding a cough in his arm.

"You're welcome."

Steve washes the bowl too, puts everything away, and follows his friend. Bucky's curled up on the couch now with his legs under him, and he looks much, much more comfortable. His long hair is drying in soft waves around his face, still damp at the bottom, and his skin is nowhere near as flushed. Steve walks over to the chair and picks up the remote, then goes back to the couch and flops down next to Bucky. "What do you want to watch?"

Bucky wrinkles his nose. "I don't know. Whatever you want." He yawns behind his hand. "Sorry."

"I don't know either," Steve replies. "I'll just flip around and you stop me whenever you want."

He ends up stopping at a cartoon show – _or movie? __–_with a llama and some kind of evil witch. It's clearly in the middle of the story and doesn't make sense at all, but Bucky laughs when he sees it, so that's good enough for Steve. It makes him laugh too, and at first they're both laughing over the same things, just like when they used to watch cartoons at the theater _so long ago_.

Bucky sighs and shifts closer, and after a bit he leans his still too-warm head on Steve's shoulder and when Steve glances down at him he's still watching the screen but his eyes are getting unfocused. And then a few minutes after that he gets heavier against Steve, and when Steve looks down again Bucky's eyes are closed, his body completely relaxed along the couch, his breathing coming deep and even, only interrupted every now and then by congestion. Steve curls an arm up around Bucky's shoulders, then turns down the TV and just listens – he listens to Bucky's breathing – _in, out, in, out, in __–__ catch __–__ in, out __–_and he unconsciously starts breathing with him.

He leans his own head on top of Bucky's and sighs. No doubt Bucky will feel worse tomorrow. Colds are always worse on the second day. But right now – in this moment – Steve is content. _This right here is a miracle_, he thinks, _that right _now _could ever happen. If Bucky had chosen differently on the helicarrier - if he hadn't wanted to come with me at the hospital - if he hadn't remembered anything... This all came so close to never happening. It all came so close._

He shivers slightly and closes his eyes, tugs Bucky a little closer.

_But it did happen. We're here._

_x_

**Well that's that! How did you like it? Please leave me a review on your way out and let me know. By the way, I would absolutely love it and appreciate it if you could tell me what parts of it you liked especially, or if certain things/lines stood out to you. It's very helpful for me as a writer to know what worked and what didn't. :) **

**At this point I don't have any ideas for the next chapter, but I'm pretty sure one will come along soon. Might be a bit longer than usual though while the ideas cook up in my brain ;)**

**Thank you so much for reading! :)**

**sergeantmicky**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys!  
**

**I originally posted this last night as a separate story but after thinking about it it doesn't really make sense to do that, seeing as it's connected to this story anyway, so I'm re-posting it as the 6th chapter. (I apologize if you've already read it outside of this one! And thank you so much for reviewing it there if you did!) :)  
**

**This chapter is not the next chapter in the storyline, it's more of a tag/AU to Chapter 2, almost like a different way things might have gone after Steve left Bucky alone so he could go help Natasha - so we're kinda going back in time here. :) **

**Warnings for *Language* and also for *shameless hugging and fluff*  
**

**x**

It's not right. Nothing is right. Steve keeps him sane, Steve keeps him _safe._ But Steve is not here – Steve has left him - and therefore he is neither of those things.

Hydra is out there. Hydra is always out there and he knows they are out there. He knows they are always looking, always searching, because he is their weapon and just because Alexander Pearce is dead (_is he really? I haven't seen the body_) does not mean that Hydra will stop – Hydra will never stop looking for him, because he is the _Fist of Hydra _and for decades he has been their one weapon that could never misfire.

And if anyone – even Steve – thinks that this Tower, this so-called "fortress" of Tony Stark's is going to keep Hydra out, they are wrong, they are all wrong. Hydra will stop at nothing to get him back.

_But I don't know anything. _

_It doesn't matter. When has that ever mattered? _

He paces the length of the room and when he reaches the wall he goes back again, and he walks around and around the room mindlessly because there is nothing else to do and every second he is here is a second that he is not on the move, and a second that Hydra is using to pinpoint his location and

_NO. I can't do it again._

He pulls open the bedroom door so hard that it rips off its hinges, and he lets it fall behind him without a second thought.

"I hope you're planning on paying for that." Stark is standing by the bar, pouring himself a drink, and Bucky does not even acknowledge his presence. He walks past him to the elevator – _no, the stairs – _and just as he reaches the door a hand touches his back. He doesn't look, he just reaches for the door handle, but then the hand closes over his arm – his flesh arm, and he turns.

Stark is standing behind him, eyebrows raised, and when Bucky looks down at Stark's hand on his arm Stark slowly removes it, but he doesn't walk away. "And where do you think you're going, big guy?"

_Do you think you can beat Hydra? Do you think you can stop them when they come for me? You are the one who is supposed to be protecting me, but when they come they will kill you and they will take me and Steve will come back to no one. _But he says none of this out loud because he does not need to. Stark will not understand anyway. Stark is proud and arrogant and _Just like your father. _

Bucky turns away and opens the door and Stark grabs his arm again, so Bucky throws his arm back without even looking, and then Stark is gone followed by the sound of glass breaking, but Bucky is already on his way down the stairs, already scanning the stairwell for Hydra agents.

He reaches the ground floor and is almost out the main door when Stark's voice rings out from the elevator. "I can't let you leave, pal."

Bucky ignores him, going to the door and trying the handle. It does not budge, and the English voice says "Mr. Barnes, you do not have clearance to open this door" and he hits the handle hard with his flesh hand.

"Bucky. Hey. Just chill." Stark's voice is right behind him now and he turns in frustration, glaring down at the smaller man. "What's going on? What's wrong? Want me to call Steve? You can't leave this building." Stark has his arms crossed, he's trying to look dangerous again.

_You are no danger to them. Or me. "_Stop," is all Bucky says, and he uses his metal hand to grasp Stark's throat, and he throws him easily back almost directly into the elevator again.

He turns back to the door and, using his metal arm again, rips the door open with ease and it shatters on the floor behind him. The last thing he hears before he leaves the Tower is -

"Steve is gonna be pissed."

X

He does not know where to go, and so he just walks. His first instinct is to find Steve, but he does not know where Steve has gone, and _Steve left me. _Steve does not want him, that much is clear. He has a moment of stillness._ Why did I think Steve cared so much? _He cannot remember why he did, but he must have been wrong, because Steve has left him alone and he should _never _have left him alone, not with Hydra still very much alive, not when _they are looking for me. _But Steve did leave – _did he even tell me why he was going? _So clearly he does not care as much as Bucky thought he did.

Part of him thinks that his brain must be malfunctioning because something – something is fighting against these thoughts, but it's not loud enough to counter the fear of Hydra, and all he knows is that he must have been wrong about Steve.

There's a crippling stab of sorrow at the thought, and it surprises him. Apparently he has become attached very quickly.

_Not quickly, remember? You've known Steve for years and years. _

_No, I don't remember. I can't remember._

_The table... don't forget the table._

_The table._

The thought brings him up short. _Steve does care, he came all that way... from where? He came all that way to take me off that table. _

_But that was a long time ago. That was... an infinity ago. Maybe he does not care as much now._

He realizes he is standing stock still in the middle of the sidewalk... where? There's only tall buildings and lots of people everywhere, everything looks the same. Without Steve or Hydra, he does not know where he is or where he is going.

_Hydra. _

He spins around, well-trained eyes taking in every building, every window, every face.

_They could be anywhere. They are anywhere. They are everywhere. _

Someone bumps into him and he shies back, suddenly sure they are watching. Hydra is watching. Is that Alexander Pierce's face in the window?

_Wipe him. Start over. _

He runs.

He does not know where he is going, but Hydra is all around and he cannot stand in one place any longer.

_Running won't help. _

He runs faster.

_Steve, Steve where are you? I told you they'd come for me and you didn't believe me. _

He knows Steve does not care, but he cannot help needing Steve. Steve has been his rock for the past week and a half, looking after him, making sure he is calm and taken care of and Steve makes him feel safe. _Does he? _He can't remember. He thinks maybe he is just remembering wrong, because his memory is not right anyway and how could he ever have felt safe when Hydra is always, always after him?

He does not know where his feet are taking him but they seem to know their way, and so he just lets his body go.

X

At some point he enters some sort of woods, and he is running on dirt and rocks and then it quickly changes back to cement, and other people are running by him – but not running like he is, running leisurely and he does not stop to see their shocked faces, he only looks back once and he cannot see any Hydra agents but that does not mean anything, _I can never see them but they are always there_ and so he keeps running, keeps _moving like the devil(where did I hear that expression?) _and finally, finally he stops.

It's different here – he is surrounded by trees but there is a path in front of his feet, and he follows it without question, because for some reason it's _different _here.

He is in pain, he becomes aware of it very suddenly, and he cannot catch his breath. This is not something that has ever bothered him before, but this is also the first time he has run a long distance since Steve... found him. His ribcage hurts on the left side, and his injured arm throbs.

Ahead of him is a small bench, and there is a man and a woman sitting on it.

He approaches it because there is _something something_ and the couple immediately stands up as he gets closer and leaves. He does not care why they have left so abruptly, he just sits on the bench.

In front of him is a body of water, and there are birds on it that he does not know the name of.

His breaths are short and fast and every one of them sends a knife of pain down his side, and his head is beginning to ache. He breathes past the pain, _Breathe Bucky, breathe _(and that is not his own voice...) until his breaths are becoming longer and further apart and the pain in his ribs begins to fade.

He does not know where he is, or why his feet chose to come this way. There are lots of trees all around and it is quite silent. No one else is coming down the path.

_Steve. _

_Steve._

_Why did you leave?_

Steve is gone, he knows. It is pointless to keep thinking of him but his mind _hurts_ and Steve was the only one that could make it stop hurting.

He needs Steve like water, like warmth, like _air_, and Steve has left him. _Why? _He can't remember why, he just knows that Steve is gone.

He stays on the bench until the sun starts to go down, and the air gets cooler, and the birds leave, and still he stays, because there is nowhere else to go and Steve does not want him anymore, so it hardly matters what happens to him.

_Where did that thought come from?_

_What about Hydra?_

He doesn't know anymore. Maybe it would be easier to let them find him. To go back to the mindlessness, the cold, the _nothingness _because if a world without Hydra is also a world where Steve does not care about him or want him then maybe he is better off with Hydra.

A cold feeling settles over him, a _final _feeling, and he lets it immobilize him. He sits there like a statue, for how long he does not know. Time does not matter.

The sun is gone now, but there is a full moon and the body of water in front of him is like a huge silver and white mirror, still and silent, the trees like silent statues themselves and he wishes he could become a part of this forest and stop _feeling._

His ears pick up on something, something far off but rapidly coming closer and his body tenses. _This is it. They've found me. I will go back with them and they will wipe my memory – _his stomach swoops unpleasantly and his heart begins to pound – _and then they will freeze me and I won't know anything anymore. I won't remember Steve._

A few moments ago he thought he wanted this, he thought he was ready to go back but now, now that he can hear the Hydra agents' footsteps only moments away he is terrified, terrified of going back and them _possessing _him again and _owning _him and _Steve Steve Steve please _and he stares down the path at the quickly approaching shadow and –

"Bucky? Oh thank God. Bucky! What happened?"

_Steve Steve Steve Steve_

He can only stare in shock. Steve, _Steve_, in his Captain America uniform, hair blown wild in the wind, panting, standing there on the path, eyes shining silver in the light of the moon.

"Bucky?" Steve sits down next to him on the bench and Bucky just keeps staring.

"Steve?"

"Yeah! You okay? Jesus, you scared me. What happened Buck? Why did you leave?"

Steve's hand is on his back, so gentle, so warm.

Bucky's throat tightens. "_You _left," he says, and his voice is accusing and shredded with emotion and it hurts to speak.

"I know, but I was going to come back," Steve says gently. "I told you that."

Bucky can't answer. He can't swallow either. Steve is big and warm and solid and _real _next to him and he can't believe it.

_But Steve wasn't coming back. _

He looks up at Steve's familiar face, concerned and sad, and notices again that he's out of breath and he realizes that Steve must have _run _all this way to find him and _I thought Steve didn't care. _

"Bucky," Steve says very quietly. "Are you all right?"

"I thought," Bucky begins, and he has to stop and force himself to swallow because his voice is coming out all weird – "I thought you weren't coming back." His voice cracks a little on the last word, and he feels more than hears Steve breathe out a _whoosh _of air next to him.

"Bucky. Bucky." Steve stops, and then he wraps his arm the rest of the way around Bucky and pulls him closer, so he's tight against Steve's side. "Bucky I will _always _come back. I promise. Okay?" He looks down into Bucky's face and Bucky just stares up at him with hot eyes and he has nothing to say and Steve's hand comes up and his thumb gently brushes across Bucky's cheek.

"Are you crying? Don't cry Buck. I've got you."

Bucky doesn't know if he's crying, although he doesn't know why he would be crying because he is just _safe happy Steve. _He crumples against Steve and buries his face in Steve's shoulder, and they sit there for a long time. Bucky can hear Steve apologizing, saying he never should have gone in the first place, but it hardly matters anymore because _Steve came back. _Bucky doesn't mind if Steve goes away, he doesn't mind if Steve leaves him alone for a while as long as he _comes back _and he did.

He can't even remember now why he thought Steve wasn't going to come back, why he believed it so intensely because of _course_ Steve was going to come back, he remembers now, he remembers that Steve cares and Steve looks after him and Steve won't let anything happen to him.

"Bucky." Steve's voice is right next to his ear, and it rumbles through his chest under Bucky's ear and it's comforting for some reason. He closes his eyes. "Buck why did you think I wasn't coming back?"

He doesn't want to answer, he wants to sleep, _so tired, so tired Steve -_ but Steve is asking, and he wants to answer Steve. "I just – I just forgot," he says, and his throat and his head ache. "Stupid to forget."

"No," Steve says immediately, and his voice is louder this time, he taps Bucky's back as though trying to get his attention. "No, it's not stupid Bucky, don't say that. You're still getting your memory back, your mind's under a lot of stress lately, right? I'm not even surprised you did forget. I'm mad at myself. I mean, Natasha needed me but she could have called Clint, or –"

"No." It's Bucky's turn to say it, and he shifts a little against Steve and taps Steve's chest. "Everybody else beats you up, you don't need to beat yourself up too."

He doesn't even know where those words came from, how he said them, he can't even remember thinking of them before they came out of his mouth but they did, and Steve huffs out a laugh that jars Bucky's head enough that he sits up. Steve is just looking at him and grinning, and Bucky feels his own mouth turn up at the corners too even though he doesn't know why he's smiling.

x

Tony's waiting outside the park with one of his cars, but Steve waves him away and so the two of them just walk back to the Tower, and Tony follows at a distance in his car, which he doesn't need to do but does anyway.

Bucky is quiet for a while as they walk, and then he thinks of something that he doesn't know why he didn't think of earlier. "How did you find me?"

"Oh." Steve smiles, looks at the ground. "Because you always used to go there, every time you had a really big problem, something was really wrong. You'd go and sit on that same bench. The place hasn't changed much since... then. I don't know, I just knew I'd find you there."

Bucky doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know what that means that he went back to that same place that James Buchanan Barnes used to go when he needed comfort. But it's something.

They are both quiet after that, but for some reason there just isn't a need to talk, and all the fear from earlier is fading, fading into the back of his mind, not gone, never gone, but _fading_ and he walks beside Steve on the streets that are even busy at this time of night and he thinks

_Steve came back._

_x_

**I very much hope you enjoyed it and please leave me a review on your way out and let me know what you thought!  
**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Once again, HUGE THANKS to everyone reviewed my last chapter! You are all awesome and lovely and I appreciate it so much!**

**This chapter is weird. It doesn't have too much fluff or anything because it's kind of a set up for the next chapter, which is going to probably have too much fluff. Hahaha so there will be a payoff. But it is the next chapter in the original storyline, so we're back on track.  
**

**Hopefully you enjoy it despite it being a bit short and lacking in fluff and stuff. :)  
**

**x**

As Steve predicted, Bucky's flu does get worse before it gets better. He spends the entire next day sprawled on the couch in front of the television - not really watching it and sweating profusely - restless and miserable, staunchly refusing to take another shower.

"I'm _dizzy, _Steve," he argues weakly, not even bothering to knock away Steve's hand when he feels Bucky's forehead for the tenth time in the past hour. "I can hardly even stand up, how am I gonna take a shower?"

"I know, Buck, but you'd feel a lot better," Steve says earnestly, hovering by the couch. "If you needed help I could – I mean, I wouldn't _look_, I'd just be there in case -"

Bucky gives him a long, flat stare that clearly says _Not on your life_ and Steve drops it.

x

That night, he helps Bucky back to his bedroom, where his friend collapses like a rag doll and only grunts in reply when Steve tells him to shout if he needs anything.

Steve heads back out to the living room and sits down in front of Tony's laptop, doing a quick search to see if there's any news possibly related to Hydra – something he does almost every day - and then he visits YouTube. He types in _Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters _and watches silently as the page loads. It still really amazes him how all the music he remembers from the '40s – and every other decade too that he hasn't heard before - is here, all in one place, to listen to any time he wants.

_I spend way too much time here. _

But he can't help it. When he's listening to those familiar tunes, if he closes his eyes, he can _almost _imagine that he's back there. That none of this ever happened. And that's something he can never spend enough time doing, in his opinion.

The bedroom door opens very slowly, and Steve looks up in surprise. Bucky is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, the very picture of misery.

"I can't sleep," he says after a moment, and Steve swears his friend is ten years old again.

"Why not?" Steve asks, smiling sympathetically. He wasn't expecting Bucky up for another few hours at least.

"I'm too _tired_," Bucky replies, almost whining, and Steve would ask him what that even means, if he didn't actually understand _exactly_ what Bucky means by that. He glances back down at the computer, and then back up at Bucky, who is watching him with dark, tired puppy eyes, strands of damp hair hanging limply around his face. He's clearly waiting for Steve to do or say something that's going to make him feel better, and that makes Steve feel needed, which is nice.

Getting an idea suddenly, Steve gets up and crosses over to him, takes his arm. "C'mere." He leads Bucky over to the couch, sits him down, then brings over the laptop and puts it on the coffee table in front of them.

Bucky shivers, rubbing his arms and frowning, but he's looking at the computer with mild interest.

Steve clicks on "Victory Polka" and then leans back as the familiar horns begin.

_There's gonna be a Hallelujah day, when the boys have all come home to stay..._

Steve smiles and glances at Bucky, who looks back at him, fever-bright eyes questioning.

"Just listen." Steve leans back and closes his eyes. _This is familiar. This is me._

_...and when we've lit the torch of liberty, in each blacked-out land across the sea, when a man can proudly say "I'm free"..._

A few lines later, Steve senses a sudden a stillness next to him, something that definitely wasn't there before, and he opens his eyes immediately.

Bucky is leaning slightly forward, his eyes glued to the computer screen, and there's the oddest expression on his flushed face.

"Buck?" Steve says softly.

Bucky doesn't even look at him. "I know – I know this song."

_And we will give a mighty cheer, when a ration book is just a souvenir..._

"You do?" Steve is grinning way too big. _Don't get excited yet..._

Bucky's eyebrows furrow, he looks like he is in physical pain. "Why do I know this song? Steve?" He looks at Steve again, and his expression is a mix of panic and hope.

_...and we'll heave a mighty sigh, when each girl can kiss the boy she kissed good bye..._

Steve remembers a bar, and a girl in a red dress... and even before that... being small, and watching a tall, handsome, confident young man in his dress uniform dance the night away with every girl in the room. He swallows hard past a sudden lump in his throat.

_...when this lovely dream has all come true..._

"Steve?"

Steve snaps back to the present, forcing himself to focus on _this _Bucky and his earnest, confused young face.

"Steve, why do I know it?" Bucky brushes the back of his hand across his forehead. "I remember... _something." _

Steve smiles, remembering himself. "It was big in 1943. Really big. They used to play it in every bar... everywhere. And you –" He swallows again, laughs even though it isn't funny. "You used to dance to it all the time."

Bucky frowns openly. "Really?" He looks skeptical.

Steve nods, sighing. "Yeah. You loved it."

"But..." Bucky trails off, looks at the computer again, leans back on the couch. "... I don't... know how to dance."

Steve's eyes burn suddenly and unexpectedly, and he blinks fast. He half-smiles at Bucky and pats his shoulder, too warm under his hand. "Trust me, you did."

_...we'll be dancing the Victory Polka!_

The song ends, and even though there isn't the scratch of a blank record afterwards, Steve still can hear it in his head and he is more aware than ever of the vast chasm of time and space between those days and _now – _this world they do not know and this time that is not theirs. _Oh Bucky. What happened to us? _

Bucky is watching him carefully, and when Steve meets his eyes his eyebrows relax a little. "Can you... play more? Please."

Steve clicks on "Playlist" and YouTube starts playing "Hot Time In the Town of Berlin".

They both end up falling asleep to the music, and when Steve wakes up in the morning his neck is stiff from sleeping upright and his mouth feels dry. Bucky's feet are resting on Steve's knees and he's sprawled against the arm of the couch, breathing with his mouth slightly open, drenched in sweat.

X

All that sweat in the morning seems to have been the fever burning itself out, because for the rest of the day Bucky appears to be improving.

His eyes are less glossy, he's not as flushed, and he doesn't complain about being dizzy at all within a few hours of getting up. He even agrees to take a shower, and looks refreshed and much happier after.

Bruce drops by in the evening, and at Steve's request gives Bucky a quick check up (Bucky can't look at Bruce and trembles the whole time, his arm stretched out on the couch toward Steve, eyes pleading), stating that he is on the road to recovery and yes, his fever has indeed broken.

They both sleep peacefully - for them - in their own beds that night, for the first time in three days.

X

All in all it takes about a week and a half for Bucky to completely recover from his illness (apart from a dry cough that won't seem to go away), and by the end of that time both he and Steve are getting a bit of "cabin fever", as Tony puts it.

For the first time since they came to stay in Stark Tower, Bucky seems to be feeling closed-in and restless, frustrated with being stuck inside the Tower - but at the same time he has a constant, crippling fear of Hydra that rears its head every time he even thinks of leaving the building.

Steve's observed him many times standing at the window, looking out at the busy streets, a definite look of longing on his face. But these times inevitably end with a sudden, terrified flinch, seemingly out of nowhere, and a hasty retreat from the window. He always returns to Steve's side, staying very close, while Steve firmly pretends he didn't notice and greets Bucky with a pat on the back or a one-armed hug.

An idea starts to grow in his mind after a couple of days of this, and he takes to the Internet (_so helpful) _to check if what he has in mind is even still _there_ after all this time and he's very surprised and pleased to see that it most definitely is – although it seems to have a changed a lot... just like everything else.

He thinks of running the idea past Tony and Bruce, getting their opinion, but in the end he decides it's really up to him and Bucky foremost, so he instead approaches Bucky where he's sitting on the couch, back to the window - an improvement in itself - looking at one of Tony's car magazines.

"Hey, Buck." Steve sits down heavily, grins at his friend as Bucky looks up, blue eyes clearer and more alive than they have been in days.

"Hey." Bucky gives him a half-smile, puts down his magazine, clearly able to tell that Steve's got something to say.

"So... I've been thinking." _Spit it out Rogers, why are you skirting around it? _He isn't sure why he's nervous to bring it up. "See, me and you, we used to go camping... before. There's this place called the Adirondack Mountains and we used to go camping there. It's a really nice place and there's a lot of stuff to do and..." he trails off, unsure if he should keep going.

"I don't remember," Bucky says after a minute, frowning.

"It was fun, you loved it," Steve says lamely. _What else is there to say? Not that there's much point in telling him he loved it when he doesn't remember. _"Anyway, I was thinking we might... go."

Bucky's eyes flick up to his face sharply. "Go?"

Steve nods, smiling hopefully. "Yeah. I mean if you don't want to, we don't have to. But I just thought it might be kind of good for you to get out of this place for a bit and go somewhere where there isn't tons of people and buildings everywhere. And me, too. I haven't done anything fun like that in... well, _ages_. And honestly, I could use the vacation."

Bucky is just looking at him, and Steve can't read his expression at all, but his eyes are getting lighter – always a good sign. "Is Stark going to be there?"

Steve laughs, probably too loud. "No. God no. Just me and you."

Bucky nods. "Okay. Let's go then."

Steve is so taken aback at the speed of his answer that he can't think of anything to say for a moment. "Really?" is what finally comes out.

Bucky smiles, he looks amused at Steve's shock. "Yeah, let's go. I don't remember it... but I do kind of want to get out of this Tower."

"Are you sure?" Steve sits up straighter. "I mean it might be a bit... weird. We'd be sleeping in a tent... and it's kind of out in the middle of nowhere. It might... be too big of a change. It might bother you. I don't know."

Bucky puts down his magazine and looks straight at him. His blue gaze is so _fragile _and yet... steady. "Yeah, but - I trust you."

Steve finds he has to blink very hard and fast all of a sudden and stare at the floor very hard. "Okay, Buck."

X

Steve starts planning it all out immediately, and this means running it by Tony, of course. He goes to talk to him in his workshop that evening, while Bucky's listening to music on the mp3 player Steve picked up for him.

Tony stares at him for a good minute before he says anything, and then "Are you crazy, Captain Underpants? I mean – really? You're going to take Terminator there out into the middle of the woods and just let him run off?"

"He's not going to run off," Steve snaps hotly. _Why does Tony always manage to say exactly what I don't want to hear? _

"Are you sure about that? You don't sound so sure." Tony waves a wrench at him and disappears back under the car.

"Tony, I think I know what I'm doing, thank you very much." Steve glares at the car, because he can't see Tony's face. "Bucky's been here for two months now and he's getting back a _lot _of his memory. Everything's going great. Why would he leave now?"

"I dunno. Unfinished Terminator business? How would I know? OUCH!" Tony curses and slides back out from under the car, sucking on his finger. "Damn car. Useless. Look, Captain Know-It-All, it's up to you. He's your long-lost BFF. What do I know?"

"Exactly." Steve clenches his teeth.

"So why are you asking my opinion then?" Tony leans against the car nonchalantly, wiping grease off his hands.

"I'm _not_," Steve snaps angrily, abruptly deciding not to tell him about the huge smear of grease across his forehead. "I'm just... running it by you. Like, how long is it going to take to get there?"

Tony rolls his eyes and sighs. "You do know you can use the Internet for this, right? But fine. I'll help you plan it all out. Always help your elders whenever you can. I was raised right."

X

Steve has to admit that Tony is a lot of help. He finds them maps, he looks up different routes, and he offers to lend them any camping equipment they don't have, which is... pretty much everything. He lends them sleeping bags, pots for cooking food, backpacks, an actual tent, and a little battery-powered fridge so they don't have to worry about their food going bad.

Bucky is excited, which makes Steve very happy. Seeing his friend's bright eyes and interest in everything they're doing is exactly what he had been hoping for when he suggested this trip.

_Just... get his mind off everything a bit, if that's possible. Maybe just a change of scenery will help. Maybe going back there to where we used to camp will jog his memory a bit. I've got to take that chance. _

All he knows is that staying cooped up in this Tower is not helping either of them anymore. It feels like they're delaying something inevitable, or ignoring something in the room that they both know will have to be talked about eventually.

Tony's earlier words about Bucky running off... Steve can't deny that the thought did cross his mind, and is kind of still there. The thought of losing Bucky now... after all this time... it makes him feel physically sick. Actually, the thought of taking Bucky out there into the vast open forest where there are no walls to speak of anywhere is probably more terrifying to him than it is to Bucky (and he does know Bucky's scared – he keeps catching him looking very nervous and shivering sometimes when they discuss mountains and tents and how far from civilization they will be), but...

_I want him to know I trust him. That's a big part of any friendship. I can't keep him cooped up like an animal in a cage cause I'm scared of what might happen if I open the door. I have to trust him. And I do.  
_

_X_

"It's gonna take you pretty much five hours to get there," Tony is saying. "Long drive. I hope you like driving, Frosty."

"I do," Bucky replies, lifting his chin defiantly, and Steve grins at him.

They're leaving this morning – it's early, Tony's still in pajamas and drinking orange juice – and he and Bucky are just eating breakfast too.

Steve's got a funny sort of excited-nervous-terrified feeling in his stomach. He's actually never even driven this far, ever. But the thought of that mountain air and wide open space... no buildings and cars... just him and Bucky - _It'll be just like the old days._ _I can't wait. _

They packed the car with everything non-perishable last night, so all that's left to do is pack the food and then they're free to go.

Steve studies Bucky across the table. He didn't sleep well last night, waking up whimpering and shaking around 2 o'clock, but Steve had managed to soothe him enough that he'd fallen back asleep.

But this morning, despite being slightly pale, Bucky seems excited and ready to go. His eyes are light and shining and he keeps smiling, and it reminds Steve so much of _B__efore Bucky _it kind of hurts to look at him, but Steve keeps looking anyway.

They get in the car around 8 o'clock, and Steve can't help grinning at his friend, unable to hold back his excitement. "Buck, this is going to be great. I know it."

Bucky smiles back, already clearly comfortable in the car seat, one arm draped comfortably out the window.

_He looks so at home._

Steve rolls down his window, too, and sticks his head out, looking back at where Tony is standing just outside the Tower. "See you Tony. Thanks for all your help." He smiles, because he is grateful, even if Tony annoys him ninety-nine percent of the time. And that fridge is pretty damn cool.

Tony sighs, lifting his orange juice in a salute. "Hey look, be careful. Have fun. Don't miss me too much. You can always call. You got your phone, right, old man? Good. Keep it charged. I gave you that portable battery charger for a reason. Use it. Are you listening? Okay. Fine. Bye."

Steve lifts a hand in farewell, and pulls out onto the road.

X

It's such a warm day, driving with the windows all the way down is no problem at all – and clearly Bucky is loving it.

He's just staring out the window at the passing scenery, openly fascinated, and his expression is so _hungry,_ but at the same time so fearful, that looking at him makes Steve both stupidly happy and furious at the same time.

He loves seeing Bucky so interested, but it's the thought of what he had to go through to make him look that scared that makes him so angry. _Don't think about that right now. _

The miles are flying by, and Steve can honestly say that right now there's no place he'd rather be and no one he'd rather be with. He remembers road trips in the '40s – Bucky was driving then – and being all excited to go camping then too.

"_We're gonna climb a mountain this time, Steve!" Bucky claps him on the back, grinning like a ten-year-old. "Maybe Algonquin." _

"_You're crazy." Steve shakes his head, looks away down the long stretch of highway ahead of them. _

"_Crazy excited," Bucky laughs, slapping the steering wheel. "Even if I have to carry you we're gonna climb it this time, I swear." _

"_That's probably exactly what you're going to have to do," Steve sighs, but he starts laughing too, because Bucky's excitement is infectious and his best friend is crazy – but Steve knows he'll follow him wherever he goes – even if it is up some damn mountain._

X

Four hours later, they're well out of New York City and Steve is in no way tired of driving, but Bucky is asleep – he passed out around the three hour mark, and he's been sleeping peacefully for the last hour, somehow looking far more comfortable in the car seat than he ever does in his own bed. Steve had rolled up the windows when Bucky fell asleep, and now he's just watching the sun climb higher in the sky and the hills get bigger and greener as they pass.

According to Tony's time estimate, they've only got about forty minutes of driving left. Steve taps the wheel lightly and glances over at Bucky again, takes in his innocent, boyish face and the shining silver arm, blinding in the sunlight.

_I've got a good feeling about this trip, Buck. _

_x_

**Meh. I hate writing in-between chapters.  
**

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**Thanks for reading!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Yayyyy the next chapter is here! :D I just finished it like five minutes ago and I'm so excited for you guys to read it. It's a long one, and as promised there's shameless hugging(holding?) and angsty goodness and bromance. Heehee.**

**I must give credit to the awesome AnimeFan202 for the idea that was integral to the inspiration for this chapter... I won't say what it was at this point to keep from spoiling it but you will see ;) THANK YOU LOVELY! I hope it's what you were thinking of! :D  
**

**Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this crazy story that was only ever meant to be a one-shot... hahaha! You guys are all so amazing and I appreciate each and every one of you so much.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**x**

Steve checks into their campsite around one-thirty in the afternoon. Tony had booked it for them - Steve just told him he wanted their campsite to be near the Algonquin – and Steve has to admit, Tony picked the perfect one. It's a good size, with a good sized chunk of flat ground perfect for the tent, a nice canopy of trees overhead for shade, and - _ a great view of the mountains. _

Steve parks the car on the left side of the campsite and just sits for a minute, looking out the windshield at the view. _Nothing's changed. Not in 70 years. People change, and the world changes, but the mountains – they are eternal. _

He looks over at Bucky. His friend is still asleep, passed out in the passenger seat, head resting comfortably between the window and the headrest. He hasn't woken up once since he fell asleep about two hours ago, and Steve definitely hadn't wanted to bug him when he was for once enjoying a dreamless sleep. But now – he leans over and gently shakes his shoulder. "Bucky. Hey bud, wake up."

He keeps his hand on Bucky's shoulder, preparing for what is probably is about to happen, and he's proved right as Bucky jerks awake, his metal hand immediately clenching around Steve's wrist and his chin rising, ice cold eyes a quiet reminder of what he's capable of.

"It's okay," Steve says immediately, and Bucky's face relaxes in recognition, his left arm following suit.

"Sorry," he mutters, letting go of Steve's arm and sitting up a little straighter, suddenly looking too big for the tight space.

Steve squeezes his shoulder and smiles. "Sleep well?"

Bucky cocks his head, thinking about it. "Actually, yeah." He sits forward a little. "Are we here?"

"We sure are." Steve grins at him and opens the car door. "Come on, come check out this view."

Right away the air is noticably cooler and cleaner, and Steve stretches his arms above his head, grunting. "That was a long drive, man."

Bucky comes around the front of the car, squinting a little in the sunlight, smothering a yawn behind his hand. Together they walk to the front of the campsite, and stand looking out over the scenery.

"It's so quiet," Bucky says after a moment, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah." Steve takes in a deep breath, savouring the fresh mountain air. _Nothing like it. I guess I haven't breathed this clean of air in 70 years or so. Crazy when I think of it that way._

"Are we the only ones here?" Bucky glances away down the road. The question is asked nonchalantly enough, but Steve senses the caution underneath, the fear.

"We have neighbours I think, but they're not close. Don't worry. They're not going to bug us." Steve pats him on the back. "Come on, help me set up the tent."

X

"This place hasn't changed at all," Steve says, smiling into the fire. It's later that night, and after getting the tent set up and sleeping bags set out, Steve had decided the best thing to do would be to get a fire going, maybe roast some marshmallows later if the fire goes over okay.

Bucky glances at him, then looks up into the sky. It's not dark yet, but getting close. "It was like this before? When you and – I - were here?"

"Exactly like this," Steve nods. "You _really _wanted to climb that mountain."

"The big one?" Bucky turns to look at Algonquin, his eyebrows drawing together in the middle.

"Yup." Steve laughs. "I told you you were crazy."

Bucky's eyes shine in the firelight. "You would say that."

There's a few moments of silence, and Steve leans his head against the back of the folding chair and sighs. It's getting chilly out here now, and both he and Bucky are wearing hoodies and moving their chairs closer and closer to the fire. Bucky's wearing a blue Captain America hoodie, Steve realizes. _Where is he getting all of this Captain America clothing? I mean, not that it's not nice to see him wearing it but still, where is it all coming from? _He's just about to open his mouth to ask when Bucky speaks first.

"We could climb it this time." He isn't looking at Steve, he's looking across the valley at the mountain and he looks thoughtful and also maybe – a little – excited?

Steve's mouth opens and shuts a few times and nothing comes out so he tries again. "Really?"

Bucky shoots him a sideways look and smiles a little. "Why not? Maybe you could actually keep up with me this time."

Steve laughs and throws up his hands. "Oh I see how it is. Okay. You're on. We'll do it this time."

It's dark by now, and they both look up past the trees. "Look at all the stars," Bucky says quietly.

"Yeah, it's really easy to see them out here," Steve agrees. "No city lights to block them out. I think that's the Milky Way."

"I haven't seen stars in a long time," Bucky says in the same quiet voice, and when Steve looks over at him his face is drawn and sad in the firelight. "I can't remember the last time."

Steve thinks about Bucky as the Winter Soldier, standing under hundreds of starlit skies and never once looking up at them, never once seeing them. He can't think of anything to say, so he just sits there and watches Bucky looking up at the stars, and he thinks maybe Bucky's eyes are too shiny but he doesn't say anything about it.

X

They go to bed not long after that. They're obviously sharing the same tent, just separate sleeping bags, and it's the closest they've come to sharing a bed. Even though over the past two months Steve has sat on Bucky's bed an endless amount of times when he has nightmares, they've never actually slept in the same bed.

Steve is actually worried it might be a bit awkward. Not for him – he remembers sharing blankets and tents and shelters and even beds with Bucky back in the '40s, but he's not sure Bucky will be comfortable with it. Steve knows that Bucky trusts him, but it's been a _very _long time and maybe that proximity won't be as welcomed anymore.

But he needn't have worried, because after they get in their sleeping bags and Steve rolls over on his left side (the side he usually sleeps on), Bucky rolls over on his right side (the side he usually sleeps on) and shifts until his back is pressed against Steve's through the sleeping bags. Steve smiles to himself and lays there listening to Bucky's deep, steady breathing, enjoying the warmth and closeness of having his best friend right there next to him, steady and solid and _real_. He thinks briefly that it'll be much easier to comfort Bucky if he has a nightmare in this setting, but it's merely a passing thought and he's too tired to stay awake any longer.

X

Bucky wakes up to a red, sun-dappled wall, and the sound of wind in trees, and he lays there and thinks for a few moments, trying to make sense of it, before he feels Steve's warm weight against his back and remembers where he is.

_Camping. Mountains. Tent. So comfortable. _

He burrows his head into the pillow and tugs the sleeping bag a little closer, closes his eyes again.

X

When he wakes up again, Steve is sitting up next to him, his hair golden in the sunlight coming through the little window at the top of the tent. He's got his sketchbook open on his lap. "Hey, Buck. Sleep well?" He smiles at Bucky, then looks back down at his book.

Bucky stretches like a cat, curling his back and groaning a little, then pushes on his metal arm with his flesh one to get a really good stretch. "Yeah. I did."

"First night that you've slept right through." Steve's voice is light – _with pride? – _and when Bucky rolls over and looks at him, his own eyes widening at the realization that Steve is right, he notices that his friend is practically glowing with _Joy Happiness Pride._

_I really did sleep through last night. I can't even remember sleeping. How did that happen? _

Either it was the mountain air or Steve's close proximity - Bucky's not sure – although he has a strong suspicion it was a little of both. He can't remember the last time he woke up feeling actually rested and most of all _safe_. It's a very odd feeling and one he would definitely like to become more familiar with.

They have breakfast, and then pack lunch into backpacks, heading out onto one of the trails Steve says they used to take all the time.

"We're not climbing the mountain yet," Steve grins as they walk. "I think that can wait a bit. This trail just has a really nice high up view of the valley and there's a lake too."

"You remember all that?" Bucky frowns, adjusts the straps on his backpack. He doesn't like wearing it, although he can't quite figure out why. It feels like a harness or some other sort of restraint and it's making a little knot of tension appear in the middle of his chest. He thinks about telling Steve, but decides against it. _Easy, Bucky. _

Steve huffs out a laugh, smiles back at him. "Yeah. I know. Feels like it was yesterday though, honestly."

The trail is beautiful, Bucky will admit that much. And there doesn't seem to be anybody else around and that in itself is comforting, but the wind in the trees and the rustling leaves soothe him for some reason, and the air up here is different than in the city. Better. He shrugs his backpack off and carries it on one shoulder instead and that's better too.

They stop for lunch a few hours later, just sitting on the forest floor and eating the egg salad sandwiches Pepper packed for them, and Bucky looks at Steve and thinks that he hasn't seen Steve look quite so glowy and _Captain America_-_ish _since... _I don't remember. A long time? _

Steve looks sunny and happy and young, and Bucky wonders what _he_ looks like, he wonders if Steve is looking at him and seeing _James Buchanan Barnes _the way he was back then, the last time they were here, when James was whole and alive and _crazy_, as Steve put it. Bucky thinks he would like to feel that (_again_?), to feel whatever it was inside of James that made him want to climb that mountain so bad because right now he can't understand it. The mountain is there and it is beautiful but... why? Bucky thinks he cannot understand maybe because James Buchanan Barnes did not have empty spots in his head where there was nothing and full spots in his head that had _too much _and probably James did not want to fill up those empty spots with memories and shut down those full spots forever _crush them end them forget them_.

He feels something then, very faintly, a vibration, almost like a rumble, and he looks at Steve immediately.

"Ready to go?" Steve has clearly noticed nothing. He has been done his sandwich for a while apparently, and he's just been sitting watching Bucky thinking with a smile, so Bucky finishes his own sandwich quickly and gets up, following Steve down the trail.

X

"Oh yeah, we made it to the look-out point!" Steve jogs ahead of him a few steps, and up ahead Bucky can see a clearing in the trees. He follows Steve and up ahead there is a wood balcony sort of, and a railing runs around it. The balcony is sticking out into what appears to be open space, and the ground and trees drop away into the valley. The two of them stand on the balcony and just look.

"God, it hasn't changed a bit," Steve breathes, and then he looks quickly at Bucky, his expression apologetic. "Sorry, I know I'm saying that a lot."

"It's okay," Bucky replies immediately. "I'd be saying that too probably, if I remembered." None of this is jogging his memory at all, not even a little bit. But he finds he doesn't really mind, because it's so pleasant being all the way out here with Steve and _no Stark and no buildings and no cars and weapons. _

He feels the vibration again, this time stronger, and there's _something... _something in the air has changed. He takes a step back, and Steve's head turns quickly, sensing his discomfort. "What's wrong?"

"What is that?" Bucky asks. He's not scared yet, but something isn't right, and all the hairs on his body are standing up.

"What's what?" Steve looks confused, his sky blue eyes flicking back and forth between Bucky's face and the surrounding woods. "Talk to me, Buck. What do you see?"

Bucky bites his lip. "Nothing. I don't see anything. I felt something though."

"What? What?" Steve's left hand twitches, and Bucky wonders if he's wishing he'd brought his shield. It is back in the car, Bucky saw him carefully fitting it into the trunk before they left, but it's not here now. He listens hard, but there isn't any more vibrating.

"I don't know," he says finally, and Steve's forehead is so furrowed Bucky would laugh if he wasn't so tense.

"Okay. Are you all right? Do you want to head back?" Steve's voice is full of concern, and Bucky is frustrated with himself for making Steve worry. _I do that too often. _

"No, it's okay," he says, but Steve doesn't look sure.

"I think we should start back. I mean, it's already one o' clock. We've been walking for a long time and we've got to do the same distance back. We can go to the lake another time." He puts his hand on the small of Bucky's back, just lightly, steering him back down the trail the way they came, and Bucky doesn't argue.

X

He feels it again about fifteen minutes later, stronger this time, a definite vibration, and this time he thinks he can hear something too and there's a flick of _electricity_ in the air, and he turns toward Steve fast, grabs his arm without really meaning to.

"Steve?" His shoulders are lifting up against his will, tendrils of fear starting to snake into his chest. _Am I going crazy? Crazier? _

But "I felt it too," Steve says. "I think it was thunder." He glances up at the sky. Bucky looks too, strong relief and confusion swirling in his stomach sickeningly.

"Thunder?" The word makes sense to him and yet not at the same time. His flesh hand is still holding on tightly to Steve's arm. _But at least Steve can hear it too. _

"It's okay," Steve says. "A thunder storm, you –" His voice trails off abruptly, and his eyes lock onto Bucky's and Bucky sees real fear in Steve's eyes.

"What?" His voice sounds very tiny to his own ears. He does not like seeing Steve afraid, there is something very wrong with that and it scares him too. Steve does not get scared, Steve is _Captain America _and Steve is his _protector_, even if he wishes he could take care of himself.

"Let's just hurry up, all right?" Steve pulls his arm from Bucky's grip and instead he reaches up and holds onto Bucky's arm, and Bucky can feel Steve's urgency and fear flowing right through Steve's hand into his own body. It does not help anything.

"I don't remember thunder storms," Bucky says, and he's trying to keep his voice steady as they walk but _I felt electricity. What is a thunder storm? Steve? _And there is a definite wobble in his voice.

"They're... they're normal," Steve says, and he's trying to smile normally but Bucky knows it's forced. "Just weather."

Bucky realizes for the first time then that the sun is gone.

X

Being super soldiers, they can move pretty fast when they want to, so they're almost all the way back when the first actual visible flash of lightning happens.

Bucky flinches in shock, gaze flying to the sky, and Steve's grip on his arm is almost too tight now. The lightning is followed by a deep, ominous rumble that shakes the ground, and Bucky's heart starts to pound. "Is it – is it your friend?"

"No, it's not Thor," Steve is still pulling him along at a rapid pace. "It's just as storm, Bucky. Just lightning. Nothing to worry about." But his face says otherwise, and Bucky's chest tightens painfully.

It's starting to rain by the time they get back to their campsite, and the sky has turned a deep, ugly grey. Their campsite affords a great view of the valley and of the storm, and Bucky can see that lighter clouds are flying along beneath the grey ceiling. The storm is approaching across the valley like a tidal wave, and the underside of the clouds reminds him rather of being underwater – or –or something and he thinks of _Steve_ and the helicarrier and the Potomac and suddenly a bolt of electricity forks across the sky, clear and cold and white and Bucky swears he saw Alexander Pierce standing on the road out of the corner of his eye as the low rumble follows, closer and closer.

He backs up rapidly, heart in his throat, wide eyes fixed on the road, _Steve Steve where are you? _He cannot find Steve. Steve is gone. The campsite is empty, the tent is in tatters, and there's _blood_ on the ground.

Bucky stares in horror, _knowing_ it's Steve's blood, _he's dead he's dead and it's my fault _and the wind is picking up around him, whipping the trees and underneath the rustle of leaves he can hear footsteps, hundreds of footsteps.

_They think they're being quiet but they're not. They've forgotten how good my hearing is._ _Steve, Steve I'm so sorry. I let them get to you. _

Another bright flash splits the sky and the rumble that follows is really more of a roar – Bucky bolts. He takes off down the road, running full out. He hasn't run like this since Steve found him but it's still just as easy, just as natural, and he runs like the wind itself. _They won't catch me I won't let them _but behind him he can hear pounding footsteps coming ever closer and he's _just not fast enough _to escape.

_I won't go back I can't go back not this not this NOT THIS!_

Something grabs his arm and he throws his elbow back, but it doesn't hit anything, and at the speed he was going the touch has thrown him off, he stumbles - and in that moment he is lost. As he goes down on one knee, strong hands grip his arms and hold him there, and someone is very _very _close behind him. He struggles like a wild animal, trying to get his metal arm up over his head to reach his assailant but the hands holding him are _too strong_.

"Bucky! _Bucky!" _

_How dare they use that name, how dare they? _

He manages to get his leg up and lands a vicious kick on his attacker's leg, they grunt in pain but do not let go and Bucky twists in the strong hands and he's on the ground on his back, trying to find a better way to defend himself and another bright flash overhead lights up everything, _everything, _including the face of his attacker and he freezes, going prone on the ground, because it's _Steve, it's Steve. Steve I thought you were dead?_

"Bucky!" Steve is panting, his face a mask of worry.

"Steve?" he croaks, and his hands go from pushing away to pulling closer, he clutches the edge of Steve's shirt and stares at him openly. "Steve, Steve, you were dead..."

"No, Buck. I'm not dead, you –"

"They're _here!" _Bucky gasps, hauling himself up and Steve's hands are painfully tight on his arms. "They're here, Steve, they came back, I saw – I saw _him_."

"Saw who? Bucky there's nobody here but us..."

The sky lights up again and Bucky sees the bolt of electricity hit the ground somewhere _close _and he yelps in fear, trying to tear away from Steve but his friend is still too strong.

"It's just lightning, Bucky, it's just a storm!" The wind has picked up again and Steve has to shout to be heard over the noise, his blond hair is flat from the rain. "It's just a storm, it's not Hydra, there's nobody here, Buck!" Steve is trying to calm him down but it's not working.

He can see the machine, he can _feel _the machine, he remembers the pain and the fear and _nothing nothing nothing _and he knows without a doubt that Pierce is here, he is _here _and he is coming back for him.

"Steve _please_." He's whimpering now and it would seem pathetic if he wasn't so terrified of going back, of losing everything again.

"Okay, okay." Steve grabs the back of his neck, looks him square in the eyes. "I know where we'll be safe, okay? Just come with me."

He pulls Bucky with him as he starts to run and Bucky follows without a second thought because _finally _Steve gets it and he trusts Steve, he trusts him more than anyone else in the world – well, the _only _one he trusts in the world.

X

Steve manages to get Bucky back to the campsite within only a few moments, because he's obviously convinced they're going someplace else, someplace _"safe", _and he follows Steve without any more fighting.

_Just gotta get to the car, if I can get him to the car... _

Steve yanks open the door to the back seat and points in, and Bucky moves past him without question. Steve climbs in after him and closes the door, shutting out at least some of the noise. He turns to look at his friend, and Bucky is pressed against the opposite door, soaked and trembling, his metal hand holding onto the headrest of the seat in front of him so hard he's crushing it. His blue eyes are so massive Steve thinks they're taking up half his face.

"Buck, it's okay. You're safe here." He leans over and grabs him, pulls him closer, and Bucky doesn't argue. He presses against Steve's side silently, his flesh hand wrapped around Steve's wrist, and Steve wraps one arm around Bucky's chest and the other around his neck and keeps him close.

"Are – are they outside?" Bucky's voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper. He feels like just a mass of barely controlled energy in Steve's arms.

Steve clenches his jaw and looks out the window at the rain and the whipping trees. "No. They're not. But if they do find us, I promise you I'm gonna kill them. I won't let them touch you, okay?"

He feels Bucky nod against his shoulder, but he doesn't answer.

They sit there for what seems like forever, but Steve knows it's only actually about fifteen minutes, as the storm rolls past. He can feel Bucky's heart pounding where his arm is wrapped around his chest, and he shivers the whole time as though it's freezing.

Steve just keeps talking, keeping up a steady stream of conversation (one-sided, obviously), talking about everything from how far away the thunderstorm seems to be getting, to how if you count between the lightning and the thunder you can tell how many miles away it is, to even how he's thinking of adding some more red back into his Captain America uniform because he kind of misses it. Bucky doesn't answer at all, but his head tips forward a little and rests against Steve's shoulder, and Steve can feel his breathing start to slow down if only from the fact that he can feel it on his collarbone.

The storm passes, and soon the thunder is only very soft and distant, and still they don't move. Steve doesn't want to let go of Bucky, and Bucky doesn't seem to want to move either, so they just stay.

X

The rest of the evening is quiet. Bucky has calmed down considerably, but Steve knows there has to be a fall-out from what happened earlier, it's just a matter of time.

He can't convince his friend to eat dinner, and Steve can see on his face that he's elsewhere, not even close to being right here with him.

_I didn't even think about checking the weather before we came. Dammit, Steve, dammit dammit dammit. Good job. _

He knows that thunder storms are essentially impossible to avoid forever, and sooner or later Bucky would have had to face one, but _I think I would have chosen a different setting than this. _

When Steve suggests that they head to bed early, Bucky doesn't complain. His eyes are still far away and sort of unfocused when they get in their sleeping bags, and Steve lays on his left side and tries to think of anything he can say to make his friend feel better. The silence is _so loud. _

"I thought you were dead," Bucky says suddenly, and Steve's eyes flick to the top of the tent. He waits for more, but Bucky remains silent.

"But I'm not," Steve says finally, over his shoulder.

Bucky doesn't move. He is completely still against Steve's back. "But I thought you were. I – I saw the tent was ripped. And I saw blood on the ground and I _knew _it was yours. And after you brought me back here... none of that – none of that was real." His voice quivers at the end. "I can't do it, Steve."

Steve feels like his heart is sinking slowly, slowly down into his stomach. He has to swallow hard before he asks the next question. "You can't do what?"

Bucky turns his head, just the tiniest bit, and Steve hears him swallow too. "I can't be Bucky."

"What – what do you mean?" Steve stares at the wall of the tent, unblinking._ No. _

"I can't be him. I don't – I don't know _how_." Bucky's voice cracks then, and Steve knows he's crying. "I'm _trying_, I'm _trying _to be James Buchanan Barnes but I can't because – because I don't know _how_, Steve. Every time I think I'm – I'm getting somewhere something happens and I realize I don't actually know anything about him and I'm not him and I'll never be him."

"But you _are_ him." Steve is fighting hard to keep his own voice steady.

"I used to be," Bucky says softly, Steve hears him sniff. "I used to be, I know that, but I'm not anymore. I can't remember what it was like to be him. I mean, I still want to climb that mountain. But I don't know _why _I want to climb that mountain. I can't remember, Steve. I just remember bits here and there but it's not enough. I can't be him for you. I can't be who you want me to be, Steve. There's all this stuff in my head that I can't forget and it's – it's always there and I don't – I don't think it's ever going to go away. I don't know the guy you want me to be. I'm sorry."

A very tiny sob escapes then, and Steve feels like he's been punched in the stomach. He can feel Bucky trembling against his back, he can sense the misery and despair hanging like a cloud around his friend.

Steve is silent for a long moment. He just lays there and listens to his best friend cry, and he tries to think of anything – _anything _that could make this better.

"I don't want you to be anyone but yourself," Steve says finally, and impulsively he reaches back and grabs Bucky's hand – the metal one - where it's laying outside of the sleeping bag. "I don't want you to try and be someone you used to be, okay? You _are_ James Buchanan Barnes, Buck. Bad things happen. Bad things happen to good people. It doesn't mean they're still not the same person when they come out the other side. They're just... different. People change. You can't forget about the bad things that happen to you, but you can move forward and put it behind you. Make a new life, even with all the bad stuff that happened. It'll always be a part of you but that's the way life is."

Bucky's hand is gripping onto his like a lifeline, and it hurts, but Steve squeezes right back. "That's all I want, Buck. I want you to be the Bucky you are _now_. The Bucky who all that_ bad_ happened to and is still strong and _still here. _I just want you to be you, Buck. It doesn't matter what happened, you're still my best friend and you always will be."

He feels a rush of emotion as he finishes speaking, and he holds his breath and listens to the silence.

"Okay," Bucky says, and his voice is very tiny and quiet, but Steve hears it. "I think I can do that."

"Okay." Steve smiles into the darkness and squeezes Bucky's hand again. "By the way, you know what? I don't think you knew why you wanted to climb that mountain back then, either. You just did."

X

They spend the next day just recuperating – Bucky sleeps late and Steve draws and rests his leg because _damn does Bucky have a mean kick. _

X

The day after that, they climb Algonquin. Before, Steve used to think that it would take days and days to climb it and he would be half-dead when he reached the top, likely being carried by Bucky, also possibly unconscious.

But it doesn't take days, it takes them the better part of one day, and he barely breaks a sweat.

Bucky's blue eyes are bright and he keeps up with Steve easily, his metal arm assisting him perfectly on the steeper parts of the trail, and there's a calm sense of quiet confidence about him, something that Steve hasn't seen before, except for possibly when he tried on that leather jacket a few weeks ago. And even then that was just the slightest glimpse.

They pass another couple of hikers coming down the trail towards them, and it isn't until Steve notices them staring at Bucky that he realizes Bucky is wearing a t-shirt and didn't bother to try and hide his arm before they passed.

They reach the top around three o'clock in the afternoon, and they stand side by side and look out over the mountain range and the valley in silence.

_We did it. Seventy plus years later, but we did it. _

Steve throws his fist in the air and whoops. "Yeahhhh!"

Bucky looks at him and laughs, and Steve lightly pushes his shoulder. "Come on, Buck! Do you see this? We just climbed this mountain. We're _hikers_! No – we're _mountain climbers." _

Bucky's face breaks into a grins suddenly, his eyes shining. "Yeah, and you actually kept up with me, punk. I didn't have to carry you!" He laughs and raises both arms above his head and whoops with Steve, and their voices echo out down the mountain and over the valley, together.

_Eternal. _

_x_

**So the idea that AnimeFan202 had was "I wonder how Bucky would fare in a lightning storm that wasn't under his control..." **

**And well... there it is. Haha. I hope you enjoyed it hon! **

**Please please if you liked it leave me a review on your way out and let me know what you thought! :) Thank you so much for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Oookay, another long one! I actually thought I was done with this story, to be honest. But last night this idea just started growing in my mind and well - I spent all of today writing it and here it is. :D**

**Quick thanks to everyone again who has read and reviewed! You guys rock! I want to give a quick shout-out to t.A.T.u.l.O.V.e who always leaves me wonderful reviews but I cannot direct message! (I know your real username isn't spelled exactly like that but for some reason the site wouldn't let me publish it the other way :S) Thank you so much hon! I appreciate all of your lovely words so much! :D Also a shout-out to MissPadawan who leaves me fantastically hilarious and kind reviews that always make my day! Gotta thank you here too! ;)**

**Quick disclaimer here - I keep forgetting to do these. I OWN NOTHING. **

**WARNINGS: Some language and SHAMELESS PATTING AND CUDDLING AND FLUFF. No slash, as always, and never will be.**

**I hope you enjoy...**

x

After the camping trip, things just keep getting more and more positive. Bucky noticeably has more confidence, and he's more willing to tell Steve things he remembers, not hesitating and looking terrified like before, as though he might be getting it wrong. Steve even catches him a few times standing up to Tony, who seems to sense Bucky's new confidence and made it his personal duty to test it.

The first time Tony jumped on him, complaining that "you scratched the glass counter top in the other room with your robot arm and maybe you should be a bit more careful, Frosted Flakes", Steve had practically strangled Tony himself, only to hear Bucky reply calmly that he hadn't been anywhere near Tony's glass counter top _ever_, and so it couldn't possibly be him.

Steve feels a ridiculous amount of pride when he hears Bucky standing up to Tony. The thing is, it's only been about three months since Bucky would have backed down and shied away from Tony's onslaught of lightning-fast questions. Steve can remember that all too well.

However, even with all the progress Bucky's made, things obviously still aren't completely fine. Bucky still has nightmares almost every night, and Steve kind of doubts that will ever change. Not with what his friend has been through in the past. He still seems nervous around the city, too, and he doesn't really like going outside. Whenever they do, he's constantly looking over his shoulder, wary eyes scanning the tops of buildings and high up windows. The thing is, Steve still worries about Hydra, too. And being in Manhattan, in Stark Tower – with that giant ridiculous "A" for Avengers on the side, isn't exactly laying low.

Also, even though for the remainder of their trip in the mountains Bucky had gone with his metal arm uncovered, clearly he's still too uncomfortable about showing it in the city, and it's back to jackets every time he steps outside. And the thing is, Bucky _wants _to go outside – Steve can tell that he's feeling closed-in – something that's only got worse since their camping trip, and Steve can't blame him.

It frustrates him, because he wants Bucky to feel comfortable and at home and to just keep moving forward, but it's looking more and more that that's never going to happen – at least not while they're in Manhattan.

X

They're on the roof of Stark Tower, enjoying the sun and breeze without having to worry about the people – and Steve's phone vibrates with a text.

Bucky is sitting with a book in his lap, but he's not reading, he's got his head back and he's pretty much just sunbathing.

Steve picks up his phone and swipes the screen – _**Hey dude – how's life? I'm back to being the fastest runner around here. Just saying. **_

Steve grins. _Sam. _He and Sam have been texting on and off ever since Bucky came back, and he's been keeping Sam updated on Bucky's progress, but honestly they haven't talked that much. Steve's been pretty focused on Bucky, and Sam has obviously been aware of that and hasn't been getting in contact too often.

He quickly texts back _**Back to being the fastest runner? I wasn't aware you ever were.**_

He's getting really good at this texting thing. To be fair, he has to press the backspace button almost every other letter, but he's getting better.

"What are you smiling about?" Bucky looks up at him, squinting in the sun. His eyes are light, light blue – totally content. Steve half-smiles, looks back down at his phone.

"Remember that guy I told you about, Sam Wilson?"

Bucky raises one eyebrow. "The one with wings?"

"That's the one. He just texted me. I haven't heard from him in a bit."

There's silence from his friend, and Steve looks at him again. Bucky's frowning down at his book, his eyebrows drawn in the middle.

Steve nudges Bucky's foot gently with his own. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Bucky rubs the back of his neck, still not meeting Steve's eyes.

Steve's phone vibrates again, and he looks at Bucky for a few moments longer before checking it.

_**You're a jerk. How's your Winter Soldier pal?**_

A split second later another text comes in.

_**Sorry, my bad – *Super Soldier pal? **_

Steve smiles again, already texting back. Sam's easily picked up on the fact that Steve really doesn't like anyone referring to Bucky as the "Winter Soldier". _He isn't that anymore and never will be again._

_**He's doing great, thanks! Making good progress. **_

The text comes almost instantly.

_**That's great news, man. When you two coming to visit me? It's boring as hell around here.**_

Steve glances up at Bucky. His friend is still frowning, and he's put down his book now, absent-mindedly rubbing smudges off his metal arm with his thumb. His dark hair is partially obscuring his face. Steve chews on his lip.

_We could go. It would be great to see Sam again, and... Washington is way calmer than Manhattan. Bucky might actually feel safe going outside. We could be back in my own apartment, not have to be stuck in this Tower anymore... _

The idea is getting more and more appealing as he thinks about it. Going back home to his own apartment sounds beyond amazing. _No more Tony(sorry Tony, but I think we could both use a break from each other anyway), no more people(not as many anyway), no more skyscrapers... _Steve types one more text.

_**I'll get back to you on that.**_

"Hey, Buck," he begins conversationally, and Bucky lifts his head a little, looking at Steve through his long eyelashes. "What do you think of going back to Washington? Back to my apartment?"

Bucky's eyes lighten, just the tiniest bit. "You mean... live there?"

"Yeah." Steve shrugs. "I mean, if you want to stay here, we can stay here. You know I'll stay with you wherever you want. I was just thinking maybe my place in Washington might be... nicer. New York can get a bit overpowering, and Washington's just... different. Quieter. At my place, at least. Anyway, it's up to you. Think about it."

"I don't have to," Bucky says, his gaze drifting back down toward the ground. "If you want to go, let's go."

Steve laughs, but it's not actually funny. "Hey, this is about you, too. It's not just my choice. I want your opinion."

"Steve." Bucky looks up at him and his eyes are fond. "You know that I go where you go. That's just... it. I'm not gonna be happy if I'm not in the same place as you - so wherever we are, I'm fine with it. But... I am getting a bit tired of Stark. He's just like his father, isn't he? Always right about everything?"

Steve laughs openly. "Exactly like him. So... you want to go then?" He finds he's holding his breath a little. _I didn't realize I missed my apartment so much._

Bucky cocks his head, looking at Steve with a little smile. "Yeah, I want to go."

Steve claps him on the back, grinning, already packing in his mind. It's only after he texts Sam _**Gonna be moving back soon! Better start brushing up on your running **_that he admits to himself that Bucky's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

X

"I get it. I totally get it. I'm not good enough for you two Super A-holes. It's totally fine." Tony shrugs, opening a bag of Pop Tarts and stuffing half of one into his mouth at once. He's covered in grease, clearly just popping up to the kitchen for a snack.

"Tony." Steve sighs. "It's not that. Washington is where I live, you know? And I miss my place. Plus, New York's getting to be a bit..." Steve hesitates, glancing over at Bucky, who's slouched on the couch, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. "...much. I think both Bucky and I need a change of scenery."

Tony rolls his eyes dramatically. "Oh my God, I'm just kidding with you, Captain Morgan. Go! Go be free. You guys need your space too, and this Tower can get a bit... claustrophobic. And I mean, if the Buckster here is gonna be happier elsewhere, I say go. I wouldn't wanna be shut up in a Tower forever either."

He smiles genuinely at Bucky, for what might be the first time, and Bucky's eyes lighten a few shades as he smiles somewhat hesitantly back.

Steve rubs his jaw, shooting a quickly glance at Bucky. "Plus, Sam's there, and it'd be great to meet up with him again."

Just as he suspected might happen, Bucky's jaw immediately tightens, fear flashes across his face, and he drops his gaze to the floor. _Oh Buck. I get it now. _

"I'm thinking about leaving by the end of the week," Steve goes on anyway, and Tony nods.

"Whatever you want, Capsicle. If you guys need a drive there let me know."

X

They start packing right away, but honestly there's not much stuff to be packed. Clothes, that's about it. They've been using all of Tony's stuff since they got here, and Steve finds himself thinking happily about his own bed at home, his own comfortable couch, and much cozier rooms.

_I don't need all this space, all these high-tech gadgets. I'm just fine with a regular old TV and lights that need to be switched on and off and a microwave that I have to actually punch in the numbers rather than speak to. _

Within the next few days, Bucky's mood ranges from anywhere between excited grins and shining eyes to miserable silence, and Steve is pretty sure he knows what's going on. He's just waiting for the right time to bring it up.

The right opportunity presents itself two days after they first made the decision to go back to Washington.

He and Bucky are in their bedroom packing up a few last things when Steve's phone vibrates.

_**Hey dude guess what - I think I might have just beaten your best time. Just a heads up. Looking forward to seeing your 97 year old face again. Tell Bucky I'm excited to meet him too.**_

Steve shoots a quick glance at Bucky, who is in a fairly good mood today, and is currently sitting on the his bed shoving the last of his clothes into a suitcase.

"Sam says he's excited to meet you," Steve says casually, folding up one of his nicer shirts carefully. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Bucky's whole body stiffens, his hands going still on the suitcase.

"Oh," he says after a moment, and it's the most loaded "oh" Steve's ever heard in his life.

"I can't wait for you to meet him, too," Steve goes on, and he hesitates for a second, then goes over to Bucky's bed and sits next to him, but Bucky's eyes remained glued to the bedspread. Steve sighs quietly. "He's going to like you a lot, you know."

Bucky's eyes finally flick up to his face, and Steve catches his breath a little at the torment in his best friend's gaze. "You mean even after I tried to kill him?"

"Buck –" Steve begins, but Bucky cuts him off.

"I _threw him _over the side of that helicarrier, Steve. I tried to kill him. Almost did, too. Somehow I don't think he's going to be _that _happy to see me again." His blue eyes are hard, but Steve can see the fear underneath, the memories of that day coming back swiftly.

Steve leans forward, catches Bucky's eyes. "Bucky. Sam knows all about Hydra. He knows what they did to you. He doesn't blame you."

Bucky swallows hard, chin lowering. "Are you sure about that?" His voice is steady, but his eyes are pleading.

Steve puts his hand on the back of Bucky's neck, squeezes gently. "I am one hundred percent sure, Buck. If I wasn't, we wouldn't be going back and you wouldn't be meeting him, ever."

Bucky bites his lip, holding Steve's gaze with his own. He reaches up and puts his hand on Steve's arm. His eyes say _I trust you. _"Okay."

X

"Thanks for everything, Tony." Steve holds out his hand, and Tony pushes it away, grabbing him instead in a hug.

"What, I'm not good enough to get a hug? Get over here you ancient dinosaur."

Steve huffs out a laugh, hugs Tony back. "Seriously though... thanks for letting us stay here for so long. I really appreciate it."

"I do too," Bucky adds. He's looking awkward, standing with his hands in his pockets, and Tony holds out his hand, clearly sensing Bucky isn't ready for a hug from him yet.

"I guess it wasn't that bad having you two around. Take care of yourselves, all right? If you ever need anything, you know where I am."

"Thank you," Steve and Bucky say in unison, and Tony makes a face.

"You two are like twins, I swear. Go on, get out of here."

X

They drive to Washington, because Steve _really_ doesn't feel like Bucky is ready for a plane yet, and it takes a good five hours.

He thinks again that it's a damn good thing Bucky loves driving, cause they seem to be doing a heck of a lot of it lately. Bucky is great company for the first couple of hours, all smiles and joking with Steve (_So much like the old days it hurts), _but after that, as Steve expected, he gets progressively quieter before finally drifting off.

The thing is, Bucky _always _needs sleep thanks to his restless nights, so of course Steve doesn't ever bother him. Plus, he likes seeing the relaxed expression on his friend's face when he's sleeping – it's not an expression he gets to see very often. So that's why, as he finally pulls up to his apartment building, yawning into his fist, Bucky is still asleep.

"We're here, Buck." Steve pats his arm, opening his car door and looking up at the familiar building as Bucky stirs.

_I'm home. Well, as home as I'll ever be, anyway. _

Behind him, Bucky gets out of the car and stretches. "Sorry I fell asleep. Didn't mean to leave you all alone for the whole drive."

"No, it's fine." Steve grins at him over the roof of the car. He still looks half asleep, blue eyes only half open. "I'm glad you got some uninterrupted sleep anyway. Come on, let's grab our stuff and go in."

They both easily carry all of their stuff, so they won't need to go back for a second trip, and Steve locks up the car. He leads the way up the stairs, looking around almost hungrily.

_Can't believe it's been almost three months! It's so good to be back. _

As he reaches his door, Steve unlocks it, opens it and steps back automatically to let Bucky go first. There's an odd sort of heavy moment, and he glances back at Bucky, who is hanging back, his chin lowered.

Steve gets a sudden flash of déjà vu, so strong he stops completely, and just looks at Bucky. _That first night... _Bucky doesn't move this time either, the significance of the moment not lost on him, and Steve goes in first again.

They don't say anything as they get to the doorway of the guest bedroom, but Steve's eyes immediately go to the spot on the wall that Bucky punched a hole through last time they were here. It's all patched up now (Steve makes a mental note to thank his landlord for that)but it's still slightly lighter than the rest of the wall, and when Steve looks at Bucky, his friend's eyes are also on the light patch.

Steve glances down at the corner of the room, remembering Bucky cowering there, and a lump appears in his throat so unexpectedly he has to clear his throat abruptly.

"This room still okay?" He asks, and Bucky nods, putting down his suitcase. His dark blue eyes skip around the room quickly, and Steve studies him, amazed at the difference between the Bucky in his memory, injured and terrified, more wild animal than human, and the Bucky in front of him now, standing tall and strong, the dark shadows disappearing more and more every day from under his eyes.

_We've come a long way._

X

Steve orders pizza that night, because there's no food in the fridge and he kind of forgot about food when they left Tony's – not that either of them has a problem with pizza.

They eat sitting on the couch, watching _Friends._

"The TV's a lot smaller," Steve says, smirking sadly. "I'll miss that."

Bucky grins, reaching over for another slice of pizza. "I won't. I like your place. It's... warmer." He glances around the room, his eyes soft, and Steve smiles.

"I'm glad."

x

He doesn't realize until he starts yawning around 12:30 that it'll be the first night in three months that he and Bucky haven't slept in the same room.

Bucky is half-asleep next to him, his head leaning on the back of the couch, dark eyelashes brushing his cheekbones, and Steve looks at him fondly. _Is there any way I can fit his bed into my room? _But he knows there's not. His room is not big, and the bed is a queen already.

_Am I worried about Bucky being okay, or am I worried about _myself _not being okay? _

Part of him wonders if he'll actually be able to sleep at all without the ability to sit up and check on Bucky whenever he wants. Plus, Bucky still has nightmares. _What if he wakes up and I'm not there? _The thought makes his chest hurt, and he looks away at the TV. _Maybe we'll just stay here all night. _

But it's only about another ten minutes before Bucky wakes up, rubbing his eyes and sitting forward.

"Wow. I spent so much time sleeping in the car I don't even know how I'm still tired." He looks over at Steve, and then at the clock behind him. "You should go to bed. You look tired too. You spent all that time driving today, Steve."

"Yeah, soon," Steve says casually, flicking through the channels, which are pretty much all infomercials at this point.

"Steve."

"What?" Steve puts down the remote and looks at Bucky. His friend's face is knowing.

"I'll be okay." Bucky smiles a little.

"I know, it's just..." Steve's voice trails off into nothing. _It's what? _

"Let's go." Bucky stands up, patting Steve's knee on the way by, and Steve wonders when Bucky got to be so good at being the old Bucky again.

X

He wakes up quite suddenly, and for a moment he's disoriented. He's so used to seeing his room at Stark Tower that this one looks unfamiliar now. There's some light coming in through the curtains, and a glance a the clock tells him it's 5:00 in the morning. He stretches a little, rolling over, and –

Bucky is on the floor next to his bed.

He stares for a moment, still half-asleep, not quite able to make sense of what he's seeing - Bucky is curled up on his left side, facing toward's Steve's bed. One arm is tucked under his pillow, and he is quite obviously asleep, forehead creased in a frown. He's shivering a little, flesh arm wrapped around his stomach.

_Oh Bucky._

Steve reaches down immediately, rubs Bucky's arm gently. "Bucky."

His friend wakes up instantly, jumping a little, eyes wild and unfamiliar for all of one second before focusing on Steve's face.

"Hey." Steve keeps his hand on Bucky's arm, squinting in the dim light. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Bucky sighs, dropping his head and pressing his forehead into his pillow, hard. "I just... had a dream. I guess – I guess I wasn't as ready as I thought I was. Sorry, Steve."

He turns his head slightly so Steve can just see one sad blue eye, and he looks so miserable, Steve almost wants to laugh.

"Bucky, I would've been surprised if you were. I should've argued with you. Slept on the floor of your room, or you could've been in here from the start. _I'm _sorry, I should've given you that option."

"It's not your fault," Bucky mutters, his face still pressed into the pillow.

Steve pats his arm. "Get up here."

"What?" Bucky shifts back a little, looking stricken.

"Come on. I'm not gonna let you just sleep on the floor for the rest of the night." Steve rolls over onto his back, pats the bed next to him.

"No, Steve, I didn't mean to –" Bucky stands up, clutching his pillow. He looks like an ashamed kid. "I didn't mean to bother you –"

"Bucky." Steve raises his eyebrows and smiles. "You didn't bother me. Just lay down, okay? I want to go back to sleep, and I'm sure you do, too. You're not bothering me. I'll sleep better knowing you're here too."

Bucky sighs, looking frustrated and exhausted. "Okay." He rounds the bed and collapses onto it, curling up immediately on his right side, facing Steve. Steve shifts the blankets over so that they're not all on his side, and Bucky pulls them against his stomach with one arm, shivering a little.

"Sorry, Steve," he says quietly, eyes already drifting shut.

"Don't apologize." Steve reaches over with one hand and tousles Bucky's long hair fondly. "Go to sleep."

He falls asleep himself a few minutes later, and he doesn't wake up again until almost 10:00 in the morning. Bucky is curled up right beside him, his forehead resting against Steve's ribcage, breathing deep and even, the frown gone from his forehead.

Steve reaches over and rubs Bucky's back lightly, and the muscles under his hand are almost completely relaxed.

Bucky mutters something in his sleep, his metal hand twitching where it lays on the mattress, and Steve's chest is tight with affection.

_I'll sleep on the floor of his room, or I'll get him a mattress so he can sleep in here... we'll figure out something. _

X

When he finally decides to get up, Bucky is still asleep, and Steve doesn't want to bother him, so he just heads into the kitchen to start breakfast. His phone vibrates almost as soon as he picks up it up.

_**Hey man, you're back now right?**_

Steve grins, texts back _**Sure am. You scared yet? **_

He turns to the fridge and realizes with a sinking feeling that naturally, since they didn't go shopping between last night and this morning, no food has appeared in the fridge.

"Damn." He sighs, looking at the cold pizza box on the coffee table.

His phone suddenly rings, making him jump, and he quickly picks it up so it doesn't wake Bucky.

"Hello?"

"_Hey man!"_ Sam sounds thrilled. "_So? How was the first night back? Can I come visit?" _

Steve hesitates, glancing toward his room.

"Maybe later today? Bucky's still sleeping and I –" He pauses, not knowing how to explain over the phone that Bucky's sort of scared to meet him, but Sam doesn't need an explanation.

"_Say no more. I'll text you later. Your pal okay?" _

"Yeah. Bit of a rough night, but I think we'll be okay." Steve smiles to himself, opening the fridge for the tenth time even though there's nothing in it. "I've got to go find someplace to have breakfast, but yeah, text me later."

"_Sounds good, man. Hey – Daybreak. It's the best breakfast around." _

"Thanks, Sam. I'll talk to you later." Steve hangs up, puts his phone on the counter, and it rings a split second later, making him jump yet again. He picks it up somewhat roughly.

"Hello?"

"_Hey Captain Underpants." _

"Hi Tony." Steve sits down on the couch with a sigh, opening the pizza box and looking sadly at the now quite dry pizza.

"_How's it going? You sound tired. Long night? Missing me already? How's your puppy?" _

"Fine, I am, kind of, no, and he's fine." Steve rubs his forehead. "We need to get breakfast though. Thanks for checking up, Tony."

"_No problem, keep lying to yourself about not missing me. Say bye, Bruce." _

Steve faintly hears Bruce's voice saying "Bye, Steve" before Tony hangs up.

X

After they have breakfast – _I've got to remember to thank Sam, that breakfast was the best I've had in ages – _they go for a walk past the Washington monument, and Steve is reminded of the last time he was there - running, not walking.

He taps the phone in his pocket and eyes Bucky, who is walking with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the monument with something like awe.

"Do you think you're ready to meet Sam?" Steve asks, feeling kind of bad about bringing it up now.

_But I really want him to meet Sam. I just know they're going to get along. And I haven't seen Sam in months. _

Bucky looks at him quickly, hesitating only slightly before answering. "Okay. Yeah. Sure." A fleeting look of fear crosses his face, but a second later it's gone.

"Okay." Steve bumps Bucky with his shoulder and pulls out his phone.

_**Sam – come by my place in 30 minutes.**_

_**X**_

Bucky is definitely nervous. He's sitting on the couch, chewing on his lip, looking out the window like he wishes he were anywhere but here.

Part of Steve feels guilty looking at him. _Should I really be doing this? _

"Bucky." He waits until Bucky looks at him, then smiles. "It's gonna be fine."

There's a knock at the door just as Bucky starts to smile back, and his face drops, eyes going past Steve to the hall. Steve leans over to pat his shoulder, and goes over to open the door.

"Hey dude. Long time no see. You look a bit out of shape." Sam's standing outside, wearing a leather jacket and a grin the size of Washington itself, and when Steve holds out his hand Sam hugs him instead. "What are you giving me that for? Thought we were friends."

Steve laughs. _I missed Sam. _"Come on in. How have you been?"

"Good, good. Bored out of my mind, but good. But I guess everything's boring after what happened last time we hung out." Sam smirks and stops in the doorway.

Bucky's standing in front of the couch awkwardly, metal hand tucked in his pocket, still wearing his jacket from their walk. His long hair is tucked behind one ear, and Steve isn't sure if he could look any more like a cowering dog if he tried.

"Sam, this is my friend James Barnes - Bucky. Bucky, this is Sam Wilson." Steve smiles at him reassuringly.

"Hi, James," Sam says immediately, holding out his hand. "Or should I call you Bucky?"

Bucky hesitantly takes Sam's hand, his eyes flicking to Steve quickly. "Bucky's fine."

"Cool. Good to meet you, Bucky. How's it all going?"

"Okay." Bucky's eyes are still going to Steve uncertainly, and Steve knows he's surprised that Sam hasn't pulled a gun on him yet.

"This all must be pretty weird for you," Sam says, glancing at Steve too. "And I thought Steve's story was scary. I think you might have him beat a little though. How are you adjusting?"

Bucky shrugs, biting his lip. "It's – hard. But Steve – Steve's helping me a lot." He looks at Sam for a long moment, and Sam looks right back, his gaze steady. "I'm sorry," Bucky says quickly, his eyes flicking to the floor. "About before. I didn't –"

"Don't apologize," Sam says immediately, holding up his hand. "You don't have anything to apologize for. Okay? No harm done. Barely a scratch."

He winks at Bucky, who is looking at him like he's never seen anything like Sam before. "I didn't come here to get an apology, all right? I came here cause I wanted to meet you, Steve's best friend ever, who I've heard so much great things about. So."

He throws a casual grin at Steve, who is watching Bucky with a smile of his own. "I know you guys kinda just had breakfast, but I'm starving, and it's almost lunch time. Shall we go get food? What do you think, Bucky?"

Bucky looks a tiny bit bewildered, but he also looks one hundred percent relieved. "Okay," he says finally, and he takes his metal hand from his pocket, which Steve takes as a sign that he's already trusting Sam. "I could eat again."

Sam's eyes don't even for one second go to Bucky's hand, instead he turns to Steve. "Steve?" Sam's eyes are warm, the message is clear. _We're good Steve._

"Definitely." Steve grins back. "Us super soldiers, you know, we can eat any time."

"Let's go then. I know just the place."

Sam leads the way out of the room, and Steve waits for Bucky to catch up to him before patting him on the back fondly. Bucky leans against him for just a second on his way past, but Steve picks up on all the relief, the content, the positive feelings.

_Yeah,_ he thinks. _We're gonna be just fine, Buck. _

_x_

**So Daybreak is an all-day breakfast restaurant we have in Canada... I do not know if it exists in the U.S. but it really is fantastic!  
**

**This is likely going to be the last chapter. I know I keep saying that, so you can probably disregard it this time too. Hahahaha! I'm just not sure where it will go from here... but there's always a chance of more cause I LOVE THESE GUYS SO FREAKING MUCH.**

**Thank you all SO MUCH for reading as always... you guys are the best.  
**

**Please please leave me a review on your way out and let me know what you thought. :)**

**~sergeantmicky**


	10. Chapter 10

**Well... this is it. I really think this will be the last chapter. It feels right to end at 10 chapters, and this also feels like a good ending chapter. I want to say a huge, gigantic THANK YOU to all of you truly wonderful people who asked so kindly for just ONE more chapter, and who have read and reviewed and been with me for this whole ride. It's been such a pleasure! **

**In this chapter, there is a little bit of everything. I want to give shout-outs to StardustOwl and Ohgress, who gave me a couple of great suggestions that truly inspired me for this chapter. Thank you so much guys! :D I hope it lives up to what you were thinking of. :) (as before, I'll say what they were at the end to avoid spoilers)  
**

**Sam shows up a lot more in this chapter, because he is awesome, but there is still plenty of Steve, because Steve and Bucky together are the BEST.**

**WARNINGS: Language. And shameless cuddling. All the usual suspects. ;)**

**I own nothing. Zip. I hope you enjoy.**

**P.S. This is incredibly long. **

**x**

"_I thought we were done with all this... No, no, but I did think I didn't have to answer to you anymore... Yes, I really did just say that..._"

Steve is in the bedroom, arguing with someone on the phone. He's left the door open this time though, and it makes Bucky feel good, because he's pretty sure that means Steve doesn't feel like he has to hide his conversations from him anymore.

He's sitting at the kitchen table, on Steve's laptop. They've only been back in Washington for three days, but already he feels more at home here than he ever did in Stark Tower. Maybe because it's just him and Steve, and it feels a bit... familiar.

_Like the old days? _

Steve's been showing him how to use the computer, and he's been using Google maps to look at their old place in Brooklyn. Using "street view" he can get a pretty good look at it, and it does trigger some memories – familiar rooms – the kitchen maybe? He remembers a couch, too, and wallpaper, but nothing is completely clear. He wants to see it in person, right in front of him, but they just left New York, so he knows it'll have to wait.

Steve comes out of the bedroom quickly, his face a mask of frustration, and tosses his phone in the direction of the couch. It doesn't quite make it, hitting the side and falling to the floor, and he doesn't bother to pick it up. Instead he goes to the fridge and opens the door, staring into it blankly.

"Who was that?" Bucky asks, trying his best to keep his voice level. The muscles in his shoulders are already getting tense. He doesn't like seeing Steve upset, and whenever he is, it usually means something's going on that Bucky isn't going to like either.

Steve closes the fridge door rather harder than necessary, then pulls out a chair and sits down hard at the table, sighing.

"That was Nick Fury."

Steve's eyes are saying everything; Bucky doesn't even need to hear him say it.

"You have to go?"

Steve rubs his jaw. "He wants me to." He glares out the window, and Bucky watches him, unsure.

"Do you have to?"

Steve sighs again. "I don't want to. But... Fury wants to talk. He says just because S.H.I.E.L.D. is done doesn't mean the Avengers have to be. He wants to talk about the future, and... he thinks he might have some intel on Hydra."

He finally looks at Bucky then, and his usually warm eyes are like ice. "And when I look at it that way, I've definitely still got... things to avenge."

_People. You. _

Bucky hears the unspoken words loud and clear. _I want to go with you, I want to be there. I want revenge too. _But he knows, he knows without a doubt that he is not ready for that yet. His right arm still aches sometimes if he puts too much strain on it, and that's just the least of his worries. The very thought of getting involved with Hydra again so soon – even if it is to take them down – is enough to send him into a panic attack even on the best of days. Sometime in the future... yes. But not now. He shivers a little and Steve's hand is immediately on his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, Buck. I'm not too thrilled about it either. But it's just a meeting. We're not doing anything yet, so I'll be back pretty quick."

Bucky makes himself focus on Steve, push Hydra out of his head. Steve is looking like a kicked dog again, and Bucky has to smile.

"It's okay, Steve. I'll be all right. I'm... stronger than last time. I'll be okay."

Steve's expression melts into a proud smile, and he pats Bucky's arm and leans back. "I think so too. But... I was thinking maybe Sam could come over and keep you company. What do you think?"

Bucky's first instinct is to balk at the idea, but he's surprised to find that after hardly any consideration, he doesn't actually mind the thought so much.

He's only seen Sam the one time so far, but in the few hours that they spent with him having lunch and catching up (well, Steve and Sam caught up, Bucky had listened and breathed and studied and assessed Sam as much as he could without being too obvious), he'd made a good impression.

Bucky hadn't felt threatened by him at all, and Sam had seemed almost supernaturally aware of things that would bother him, not mentioning Hydra or that day on the helicarrier or Alexander Pierce or anything, really. He'd kept the conversation firmly between "all the awesome things we're going to do now that you guys are back" and "how were things in Manhattan?" and Bucky had felt... okay. Maybe not one hundred percent, but okay.

And really, if Steve isn't going to be around and it's a choice of being alone for two days or having Sam around... he just might choose Sam.

"All right," he says slowly, and Steve's eyebrows fly up almost comically fast.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Bucky shrugs, but he can't help smiling at Steve's face. "I guess I wouldn't mind. Better than being alone."

"That's what I thought." Steve is grinning openly at him, and he reaches over to squeeze the back of Bucky's neck. "Okay."

X

He can't sleep that night, which is nothing new, but this time it's not nightmares, it's the thought of Steve leaving.

He's currently sleeping on a mattress next to Steve's bed, so thick and comfortable it might as well be a regular bed – and it really does help him to be near Steve at night.

It doesn't stop the nightmares. But it does make a world of difference when he wakes up panting and whimpering, cowering away from an imagined horror, and Steve is instantly there, leaning over the side of the bed, ready with a gentle touch and soothing words that bring him back to the here and now.

And on the really bad nights(well, he's only had one so far), when he woke up screaming (and possibly crying), Steve had immediately pulled Bucky up into his own bed, prepared to do whatever he needed to feel safe – talked to him, hugged him, and wrapped him in a strong, firm hold that wasn't so much a hug but something for him to _brace_ himself in and come to the realization that everything he just saw was not real and that he was not alone and he was _safe. _

But tonight he's just lying awake, not really having any concrete reason for not falling asleep except for the knots in his stomach at the thought of Steve leaving him for two days.

_Come on Bucky... didn't you just assure Steve earlier that you'll be fine? That you're stronger now? _

_I am... I am stronger now but... I still don't want him to go. And that means a night without him, too. Oh God, Bucky. Pull yourself together._

He rolls over and buries his face in his pillow.

_Just a few hours and he's gonna go. I don't want him to go. They're going to want him to go after Hydra and what if –_

Steve shifts on the bed above him, and Bucky instinctively looks up. Steve is leaning over the side of the bed, looking down at him.

"Buck? You awake?"

He debates not answering, because it'll only make Steve worry, but even after all this time he is still too conditioned to answering when someone asks him a question, and so he grunts in reply.

"I thought so." Bucky can hear the smile in Steve's voice. "I can practically hear you thinking."

Steve's hand is on his back suddenly, rubbing comfortingly between his shoulder blades, and the tension starts to dissipate from his muscles within moments.

He doesn't move, closing his eyes and breathing deep, concentrating on Steve's hand, which settles at the small of his back and stays there, heavy and warm.

"It'll be okay, Buck." Steve's voice is a bit funny; Bucky isn't sure if it's cause his neck is at an awkward angle on the edge of the mattress or if he's emotional. "I'm only gonna be a phone call away."

X

Steve had managed to get Bucky to drift off for a few hours last night, but it obviously wasn't enough, and he's still tired. He's sitting on the bed miserably, watching Steve throw a few items into an overnight bag.

"So Sam and I were thinking... I told you what Sam does, right? How he works with war veterans suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" Steve throws the last bit over his shoulder as he goes into the bathroom, coming back out a second later holding his toothbrush.

"Yes." Bucky looks at the comforter on Steve's bed.

"Well Sam and I were thinking you might want to go to one of his meetings," Steve goes on, and when Bucky finally looks up at him, Steve's face is all glowing and hopeful.

_A much smaller Steve, standing outside their apartment in Brooklyn with that same face... _

"Only if you want, of course. But Sam's really good at what he does and you might find it... helpful." Steve carefully folds a t-shirt into his bag and starts to zip it closed, and that's when they hear a knock.

Steve touches Bucky's arm on his way to the door, but Bucky remains on the bed.

Yesterday this seemed like an okay idea, but now doubts are starting to crowd his mind.

_What if Sam was only being nice to me before cause Steve was here? What if he was just waiting for an opportunity like this? _

He remembers Steve's words from a couple of days ago when Bucky had asked if he was sure about Sam: "_I am one hundred percent sure, Buck. If I wasn't, we wouldn't be going back and you wouldn't be meeting him, ever." _

And he trusts Steve, he trusts Steve like he trusts no one else.

_But..._

"Hey man." Sam is standing in the doorway, his own overnight bag in hand, smiling. "How are you?"

Bucky feels trapped for a quarter of a second, until Steve walks past Sam into the room with them, and then he swallows hard. "I'm okay. How – how are you?"

The words feel foreign in his mouth, exchanging pleasantries is not something he does often. He holds out his hand - willing it not to tremble - because he thinks that might be the right thing to do, even though it's the second time he's meeting Sam.

"I am great." Sam grins, shaking his hand. His eyes are soft and friendly. "Glad to be out of my house for a bit." He looks at Steve, who is hovering nearby with worried eyebrows. "When you leaving, man?"

"Now," Steve says regretfully. "So you have my number, right Sam? Just in case –"

Sam is nodding already, still smiling. "I've got it, Cap. Don't worry. I've kind of had it for months." He winks, and Steve sighs, looking sheepish.

"Right. Sorry. You'll call me if you or Bucky need anything?"

"Definitely. Bucky, you'll let me know if you want me to contact Steve?"

Bucky nods immediately, and Steve nods back. "Okay. Good. All right..." He looks at his watch quickly. "I need to go."

Bucky follows him to the door, standing a little aside as Steve talks to Sam. He's not really listening at all to what they're saying, his mind is solely on _This will be the first night without Steve since that one when I remembered the train accident. _He shivers, remembering all the blood and Stark's horrified face.

"Bucky?"

He snaps back to the present. Steve is watching him, his face slightly concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." He smiles, because he knows that Steve wants him to be okay, and he wants to be okay for Steve.

"Okay." Steve looks unsure still. "So listen, call me if you want. Any time, okay? I don't care if I'm in talking with Fury, I'll step out. Okay? Will you?"

"I will." Bucky lightly pushes Steve's arm, trying for a light-hearted smile, and he thinks that he didn't quite succeed when Steve abruptly pulls him into a hug.

He finds himself clinging to Steve's jacket like a lifeline, trying his hardest to control the trembling that seems to be suddenly running through his entire body.

_Don't leave me here, don't leave me here. I can't..._

Steve is holding him so tight it almost hurts, but it makes him feel safe too, and he presses his face into Steve's shoulder and wishes Steve would take him with him. But Steve lets go of him, backing away quickly, his hands trailing gently off Bucky's arms. "I'll be back soon. Bye, Buck. Sam."

And he's gone.

Bucky wants to cry. He looks at the closed door and his metal hand twitches, wanting so badly to open it and go after Steve, but he turns his head a little and sees Sam and immediately his guard goes up, his emotions drawing back.

He's wary of what Sam must be thinking, but honestly, all he can see in Sam's face is deep understanding.

"He'll be back, bud," Sam says, and his face is so calm and kind that Bucky has to look away, because his emotions are rising to the surface again and he will _not _cry in front of Sam.

For a moment he's afraid they're just going to stand in the hallway awkwardly until Steve gets back, but then Sam starts talking.

"So for lunch I was thinking sandwiches... Steve said he's got some cold cuts in the fridge. And for _dinner, _I'm thinking of making spaghetti. I make a _mean _spaghetti sauce, even if I have to say so myself. Trust me, man, you want to try it. You like spaghetti?"

He's walking past Bucky, heading into the kitchen, and Bucky instinctively follows him, unsure of what else to do. "I don't know," he says after a moment, realizing Sam is waiting for an answer.

He waits for a reaction similar to Tony's when he'd first heard Bucky couldn't remember what french fries were – shock, horror, gasping, pity – but Sam's face doesn't even change.

"Well you will after this, I can promise you that." Sam opens his overnight bag and pulls out a box of pasta. "Yeah, I didn't just pack clothes in here." He laughs as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients for dinner, and Bucky stands in the doorway and watches him, his thoughts still trailing after Steve, wondering how far away he is by now.

X

By the time dinner rolls around, he's feeling a bit better. Sam is incredibly calm and friendly, not once seeming frustrated at Bucky's silence or they way he keeps jumping when Sam moves too suddenly.

He also doesn't feel the need to talk constantly, which Bucky appreciates, but he doesn't let things get awkward, either. Bucky isn't sure how he does it – it's just something about Sam, he makes everything sort of comfortable.

They're sitting in the living room watching TV when Sam pats the arm of the couch. "I think it's time to start the spaghetti sauce. It takes a while, and I don't want us to be eating at ten o'clock at night. That wouldn't be too fun, and I told Steve I wouldn't let you starve, so..."

He laughs, and Bucky half-smiles, watching Sam walk to the stove.

He watches, fascinated, as Sam starts carefully putting ingredients into a big pot, humming to himself and seeming perfectly at ease, as always.

_Should I ask if he wants help? _

Something in the back of his mind wants to help, to not just sit here and watch, but _I don't know how to cook. _

_Maybe he can teach me?_

He shudders at the thought of standing at the stove that close to Sam, and he has to squeeze the arm of the couch hard to not keep shaking.

"Do – do you want – help?" His voice comes out all tiny and unsure, but Sam just looks at him, eyebrows raised, seeming pleased.

"Hell yes. The sauce is a bit sensitive though, so maybe I should finish that. But I want to make a salad to go with it, so do you want to do that?"

So that's how he ends up standing at the kitchen table tearing up lettuce. He can't do that with a glove on, so he's ripping it up with his metal hand, and he's a bit worried he might end up mangling it all but Sam doesn't seem even slightly concerned, which makes Bucky feel a bit more secure.

By the time they're sitting down for dinner, Bucky's stomach is growling. The sauce smells amazing, and Sam hands him a heaping plate of pasta. "I hope you like it. If you don't, that's okay, but I'll be disappointed."

Bucky looks at him quickly, and Sam smiles, his dark eyes bright. "I'm kidding, bud."

Fortunately, the food is amazing, and Bucky cleans his whole plate before speaking again, and even then it's only because Sam is clearly waiting for a comment.

"It was... really good," Bucky offers, hoping it's the right thing to say. "Thank you."

Sam's face splits into a grin. "You, are very welcome, Bucky. Glad to hear it."

X

After dinner, he feels pleasantly full and warm, and he sits on the couch with Sam, trying not to fall asleep. Sam is only at the other end of the couch, but he feels safe.

_If Sam was going to do anything, I think he would have done it by now. _

Sam is flicking through the channels, his feet up on the coffee table, looking infinitely relaxed.

"So Steve told me he was thinking you might want to come to one of my VA meetings," he says, and Bucky's shoulders immediately tense. "I'm supposed to be having one tomorrow. So here's the deal. You can stay here, if you want. It's only an hour long. Or you can come with me."

Bucky avoids his eyes, plays with the hem of his shirt. "I don't know – anything about it."

"That's okay. You don't have to. The basic idea is, I try and help people who are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I try and help them get back to an every day life. Understand how to deal with the things they're feeling."

Sam pauses, looks over at him, and his eyes are different now, darker, and Bucky thinks maybe Sam is a bit scared too and he's just better at hiding it.

"They've all been through things like you," Sam goes on, and when Bucky's eyebrows shoot up questioningly, he smiles a bit. "Well, not exactly like you. But... the same idea. You'll see. If you come, I mean. It's totally your choice. You can decide tomorrow, if you want."

"Okay." Bucky watches Sam for a few more seconds after he looks away, and he sees something familiar there that he can't quite place. Something that makes him feel like... bad things have happened to Sam too. Part of him wants to ask, but he knows first-hand what it's like to have someone suddenly bring up your past, so he doesn't.

His eyes keep drifting shut slowly, and he keeps jumping awake, because _I really don't want to sleep with Sam here... even if he isn't going to do anything I don't want to have a nightmare and – and Steve not be here. _

The thought makes him shiver, and he pulls his knees up, pressing into the arm of the couch and lifting his head a bit to hopefully stay awake.

Sam's phone suddenly rings and Bucky jumps, the sound surprisingly loud in the silence.

"Sorry about that," Sam says, quickly answering it. "Hello? Oh, hey man. How's it going? He's good, Steve. We're good."

Bucky snaps into full awareness, looking quickly over at Sam, who smiles at him, still talking.

"We haven't decided yet. Hopefully, though. How's things there with your spy buddies?" Sam laughs, and Bucky just sits there, frozen, waiting. "Want to talk to him? Yeah of course, he's right here."

Sam holds out the phone to Bucky, and he takes it quickly, his hand trembling. He doesn't really know how to use phones, but he's seen Steve on his enough times and so he just puts it to his ear the way he's observed everyone else doing.

"Steve?"

Sam gets up and goes into the kitchen, leaving him alone, and Bucky is grateful.

"Hey, Buck!" Steve's voice sounds different, far away, and Bucky's chest aches with loneliness. "How're you doing, bud?"

"I'm okay," Bucky says, biting his lip. _Not really. Sam is kind but... he's not you._ "Are you all right?"

"I'm totally fine, Buck." Steve sounds relaxed, anyway. "How's it going with Sam?"

"Good," Bucky answers honestly, glancing toward the kitchen. "It's good." He wants to ask Steve if he's coming back soon, but he already knows the answer, and it's _tomorrow night. Not soon enough. _"Did you talk to Fury yet?"

"We started talking." He hears Steve smother a yawn. "Aren't you tired, Bucky? It's late."

"Not really," Bucky lies, and there's a few seconds of silence.

"You can sleep in my bed if you want," Steve offers.

"Okay. Thanks." Bucky looks at the floor, wishing he could ask Steve to come back. _I need you._

He hears Steve say something to someone in background, his voice muffled, and then he sighs. "I'm sorry, but I'd better get going, Buck. I just stepped out for a few minutes to call. Try and get some sleep, okay? If anything... happens during the night, you can call me. Or tell Sam to. All right? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye, Steve." He hates how young and needy his voice sounds.

"Bye, Bucky." The line goes dead, and Bucky takes the phone away from his ear, looking warily at the screen.

"All done?" Sam leans into the room.

Bucky holds out the phone. "I don't know how to - make it end."

Sam comes over to take it, and Bucky pulls his arm back, curling against the arm of the couch and pulling his knees up again. He suddenly feels very small and alone.

"You okay, Bucky?"

Sam's voice is gentle, but Bucky can't look at him, he's afraid he's going to cry if he does, so he just looks at his knees. He really doesn't want to be around Sam anymore, but the last thing on earth that he wants to do is go to bed.

_The way I'm feeling right now... if I even manage to get to sleep, I'll have nightmares all night._

Sam sits down next to him, still keeping a respectful distance. "You miss him, huh?"

Bucky eyes him warily, but he sees only compassion in Sam's eyes, and so he nods, clenching his jaw, his gaze falling to the floor.

"That's okay. You're allowed," Sam says gently. "Steve's pretty great, after all. Hell, I miss him too." He stretches out his legs again, stares at the TV somewhat blankly. "Feel like pulling an all-nighter?"

Bucky glances at him quickly, his chest aching, and Sam smiles. "I mean - stay up all night? I'm not tired either."

So they do.

Bucky isn't even remotely tired anymore. Talking to Steve just made his absence more obvious, and he finds himself longing for his friend's comforting presence.

_Don't know who I am without you, Steve._

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, Sam falls asleep somewhere around three o'clock in the morning, his mouth slightly open, limbs limp and relaxed.

Bucky does not. He huddles on his side of the couch and stares at the TV, not really watching it at all, counting down the hours. At about five o'clock in the morning, he makes a decision.

_I think I will go to Sam's... meeting. Anything is better than staying in this house alone. I don't belong here without Steve._

X

He stands in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. His hair is clean at least, falling in slight waves to his shoulders, but that's about all he can find that's good about his appearance. His eyes are too dark, underneath too, and there's a whole day and a half of beard-growth shadowing his jaw. He rubs a hand over his face and looks away, reaching for his jacket.

The thought of going out around _people he doesn't know _without Steve there seems kind of insane, actually.

_What am I doing? _His stomach is in knots. _I just don't want to be here alone. I can't be. I'm going to go crazy. Crazier. _

He pulls the glove on over his metal hand, and with the whole thing covered up he guesses he can pass for just a regular, miserable looking young guy.

"Ready to go?" Sam is standing in the doorway, wearing a button-down shirt and dress pants.

Bucky flushes, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't have anything to wear... like that. Is this okay?"

"You can wear anything you want, don't even worry about it. I'm the guy who's doing the talking, I've got to be up at the front of the room and look somewhat presentable so people might actually want to listen to me." Sam smiles. "You're fine like that."

X

Being in the car is somewhat relaxing, as always, but it's not a very long drive, and it's weird being in the car with someone else other than Steve.

Plus he spends most of the drive worrying that he won't be able to act normal around anyone at Sam's meeting, _and maybe Hydra will find me there, _and by the time they get there he is just a bundle of nerves – he has to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering because he's trembling, and he can barely open the car door his hands are shaking so much.

Sam starts to walk towards the building, and Bucky hangs back, taking in every single inch of it. _Snipers? _His eyes go to the roof, then fall to the upper windows – someone is moving around up there. His left hand twitches, and he blinks, taking a step back.

"Bucky?"

He forces himself to look at Sam, who is standing only a few feet from him. "Everything all right?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly, looking back towards the car.

_I changed my mind. I don't want to be here. Steve? _

"You want to just come inside and see? I promise if you want to leave, I'll drive you home. Everybody won't mind waiting for a bit. What do you think? Just take a look?" Sam doesn't touch him, even though Bucky's sure he would like to take his arm or something, pull him towards the building.

He shifts his weight uneasily, still looking towards the top of the building. "What's up there?"

"Where?" Sam looks up with him, sees the movement in the top window. "Up there? Offices. This is a Veteran's Affairs building. That person you see moving around up there is Alicia Sampson. She used to be in the military too, served in Iraq. Now she's working here." He smiles. "She's a nice lady."

Bucky stares for a bit longer, watches her move away from the window and disappear. Sam starts to walk again, and Bucky follows him.

Inside it's cool and smells like something he can't quite place, but it's familiar. The room isn't huge, but it's big enough that he doesn't feel claustrophobic. There are a few people already there, and Bucky is happy to see that they are pretty much dressed just like him, not like Sam.

All three people look up as they walk in, and Bucky's stomach swoops, fear making him stop dead, but they only glance at him and then look away again.

"Sit wherever you want," Sam says quietly. "I'm going to go to the front and set up. Come and get me if you want to go, or for _any_ reason, okay?"

Bucky nods and heads straight for the back of the room. The people who are already here are sitting nearer the front, so it's more open and he doesn't have to face them.

One of the men turns around though, and his face is friendly. "Hey, how's it going? First time?"

Bucky doesn't really know what he's talking about, but he nods anyway, and the man nods too.

"It's a start, right? I'm Mike."

Bucky struggles for a second, trying to make up his mind, finally going with "James." He can barely meet Mike's eyes, but the other man doesn't even seem to notice.

"Nice to meet you, James." Mike turns back around to the front, and that's it. _That's it. _But his right hand is sweating and his heart is pounding.

X

There's a lot more people in the room now, but they've all kept a respectful distance from Bucky, as though sensing his unease, and there's still mostly empty chairs around him.

When he looks around the room, he's surprised to see that some of the other people have the exact same look in their eyes that he sees in his own every time he looks in a mirror. Empty. Scared. Ashamed.

And once Sam starts talking, he finds himself listening as hard as he can.

"We all did stuff over there that we regret. And it's hard to accept it now. Things that we did over there because we _had_ to, because we didn't have a choice – over here, it seems unreal. Like a different world."

Sam looks down at the floor for a second, then back up. "Sometimes it feels like a bad dream. Sometimes we block it out, try and forget about it, because it's just too painful to remember."

Bucky shifts a little in his chair. _Remember. _There's something coming to the surface that he doesn't want to think about, and he blinks, trying to push it back.

"And we blame ourselves. We think it's our fault. Maybe we think we're bad people, because of what we did over there. Maybe we're ashamed."

_An arm around his neck, squeezing. He pulls at it with his hand, trying desperately to get air, but when his hand falls away it gets trapped and there's no way, no way to get rid of the arm – no way to breathe – _

"...it's perfectly normal, these feelings. Shame. Regret. Guilt..."

_Waking up. The ground below him is moving - actually moving, not just because of his dizziness - but he stands up anyway, because there's something he needs to do and he has not followed through on his orders yet._

_Above and in front of him the man is climbing, and he does not understand where the man is going but he knows it must be important, and so he takes out his gun with his left hand because his right hurts too much, and he fires._

"...remember that we were following orders. Sure, sometimes we had a choice. But sometimes we didn't."

_Horrible pressure on top of him. He is stuck here, he is going to die. But the man is next to him suddenly, bleeding, but alive, and he is lifting the pressure off, slowly but surely, and the Soldier pulls himself out from underneath with his metal arm and stands unsteadily._

"_You know me," the man says, and his blue eyes are memory itself. _

_I don't remember, I don't remember, I don't remember. Stop!_

_He is beating the man to death, because he can't remember and he doesn't _want _to remember and everything the man is saying _hurts_. There is blood everywhere and his heart is going to explode – he has shot this man and struck this man and he will kill this man now, because - "...to the end of the line."_

"...people we couldn't save..."

Sam's voice seems far away, so far away.

_The man is gone, falling, falling down into the water and he could have caught him, but he doesn't, because he doesn't want to _remember_, but he stares and stares and watches the little blue and red speck get smaller and smaller and _I do remember though. I remember.

_But the man is gone. He hangs onto the metal above him and he stares down into the grey water and there is nothing. The man is gone and _I can't go back, I can't go back now. I remember. I remember **I remember. **_**STEVE. **__I don't know anything but I do know that I know you. There is no going back now. I am lost. _

_He lets go and falls_.

He stands abruptly, and his chair falls over with a resounding crash.

_Steve, Steve, Steve, I almost killed you. I wanted to kill you. I killed a lot of people. _

He is leaning against the wall, he thinks he possibly might be screaming, because his mouth is open and his throat is straining and raw but he can't hear anything. He slides down to the floor, to his knees, and slams his fist into the wall.

_I almost killed him. _

A hand touches his back, so gentle, and Bucky presses his head against the wall and doesn't look. _Go away, go away. _The hand is warm, and it trails warmth behind it as it moves up to his shoulder.

"Steve?" It comes out as a croak. His throat burns. He turns his head, tries to see.

"No, Bucky. It's Sam."

Bucky whimpers, presses his head against the wall so hard that it hurts.

_Steve. Steve, I need to say I'm sorry. _

"I almost killed him." He isn't really talking to Sam, more to himself, but Sam answers anyway.

"But you didn't."

"But I tried." Bucky presses his hand against the wood of the wall, tries to ground himself.

"Yeah. But you didn't." Sam is very near, crouched down. "Bucky." Sam's voice is gentle, but firm. "Come on back now. You're okay. Steve's fine. You didn't kill him. You stopped, remember? You stopped."

The room is getting a bit clearer now – it is empty behind Sam. A few chairs are overturned, and it is empty.

Bucky realizes he is panting, chest heaving, his t-shirt damp with sweat. _I didn't hear anyone leaving. _

He finally manages to focus on Sam's face, and Sam looks completely and totally calm. "Bucky?"

"Where's – where's Steve?" His voice falters, breaks.

"He went to meet Nick Fury, remember? He's going to be back tonight." Sam clasps his hands together, sits down on the floor.

Bucky blinks, trying to remember. His eyes feel hot, and there's something tickling his cheek. When he reaches up to swipe it away, his sleeve comes away wet. _I didn't want to cry in front of Sam. _He ducks his head. "I shot him, Sam. A lot of times."

"Yeah, and he broke your arm and strangled you a bit, if my memory serves me." Sam shrugs. "We do what we have to do when we're trying to survive."

"I wasn't trying to survive, I just – did it," Bucky says, frustrated. _He doesn't get it. _

"No? You weren't trying to survive? You mean you weren't trying to – finish - your mission because you knew what Hydra would do to you if you didn't?"

Sam's dark eyes are so completely free of judgement that it makes Bucky's eyes hot again. He swallows hard, looks down at his gloved hand on the floor.

"Maybe."

"Yeah," Sam says quietly. "I know. It's all a bit blurry, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He looks back up at the room again, realizes with a pang that he kind of ruined Sam's meeting. "I'm sorry, for..." He doesn't know how to finish that sentence, but Sam cuts him off.

"No."

He says it so abruptly that Bucky pulls back a little, his heart skipping a beat, because he knows that word, he's heard '_No'_ a thousand times and it's almost always followed by punishment.

"It's okay," Sam says immediately, holding his hands up, picking up on Bucky's fear. "I meant – no, don't apologize. Don't _ever_ apologize for something like that. Okay? All those people who were here... they understand. You think this is the first time a veteran has had flashbacks in this room? It's not, and it won't be the last, either. We can all handle it. All right? No apologies."

Bucky doesn't know what to say, so he stays silent. His legs feel shaky, and he's not sure he can stand, so he doesn't move, he just keeps his back against the wall and breathes, trying to stop shaking.

Sam doesn't move either, and he doesn't say anything else, he just sits there and rests his chin on his clasped hands.

"Is tonight soon?" Bucky asks finally, not even caring how pathetic he might sound.

Sam doesn't laugh at him; he just looks a bit sad. "Not for another couple of hours, man. Do you want me to call him? My phone's right here." He pulls it out of his pocket.

He wants to talk to Steve _so bad. _He wants to see him, make sure he's okay, _hug him, _because right now when he tries to picture Steve, all he can see is his bloody face on the helicarrier. _The blood that I drew. _But he does remember that Steve's coming back, he remembers now that Steve hasn't abandoned him and he's not dead.

"No," he says finally, and it takes way too much effort. "It's okay."

"You sure?" Sam holds up his phone, raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah." Bucky looks away, because he knows if he keeps looking at the phone he's going to change his mind.

Sam puts it back in his pocket.

"Are we going to stay here?" Bucky asks, because Sam hasn't made any move to leave.

Sam shrugs. "Do you want to?"

"No. Not really." Bucky puts his hand on the wall, prepares to stand up.

"Okay. Let's take you back home then." Sam stands up, holds out his hand, and after only a moment's hesitation Bucky takes it and allows Sam to help him up.

X

When they get back to Steve's place, Sam offers him dinner, but he's not hungry. The house still feels empty and _not like home, _and he longs for Steve's company.

He is beyond exhausted, and even kind of sore - as though all that remembering took an actual physical toll on him – and instead of joining Sam to watch TV, he goes to the bedroom and curls up on Steve's bed.

He isn't planning on sleeping, but as he lays there in the growing dark, listening to the soft sound of the television from the other room, his eyes just drift shut of their own accord.

X

"Buck?"

He's so tired, so very, very tired, and his head feels like it's a thousand pounds. There's a warm hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles, and he wants to just lay there forever.

But that voice is so familiar, it's a voice that he needs to answer more than he needs to keep sleeping, so he drags himself from the comforting blackness and opens his eyes.

He's still curled on his side, facing the door of the room, but now someone is in the space between him and the door, sitting on the bed, and he looks up, up, and it's Steve.

He looks tired too, but his eyes are soft and fond and Bucky starts to sit up immediately. "Hey, Buck. How are you?"

Bucky doesn't answer, he just throws himself into Steve's arms, buries his face in Steve's neck, holds on as tight as he can.

"Hey, Bucky." Steve laughs a little, sounding surprised, and he wraps his arms around Bucky's back and holds him just as tight.

Steve is so warm and solid, so _alive_, and Bucky is so glad to see him, so completely content. He leans against Steve, gives over all his weight, and Steve sighs softly in his ear.

"You all right? How did it go? Sam told me what happened at the meeting. Are you okay?"

He doesn't even want to answer, he's so comfortable, but again, Steve is asking. "It went okay. I'm fine." His voice is muffled in Steve's shirt, and he shifts his head just the tiniest bit. "How did your meeting go? Are you okay?"

Steve laughs. "It went okay, too. And I'm totally fine too. Just tired." He leans his head against Bucky's a little, and Bucky curls his fingers in the back of Steve's shirt instinctively. He's starting to drift again, breathing evening out and getting deeper, and Steve doesn't try and wake him.

X

They all have breakfast the next morning together, because Sam stayed in the guest room.

Bucky is feeling a million times better. He had a good night's sleep last night, waking up only once, and even then he was just warm and comfortable, pressed against Steve's back, and he'd gone right back to sleep.

Steve is all bright this morning, too, and doesn't even look remotely tired.

"You know what we should do?" Sam says suddenly.

"What?" Steve looks up at him, and he's squinting thoughtfully, looking out the window.

"We should go for a run." Sam raises his eyebrows. "Right? Am I right? Bucky, I would love to see you go up against Captain Perfect here. And I've been running a lot, I might be able to take both of you. What do you think? Huh?" He grins, and Steve shakes his head, smiling too.

"What do you think, Bucky? You want to race this guy?"

X

"I have a bad feeling about this all of a sudden," Sam says.

They're standing in the park near the Washington Monument, all of them dressed in jogging pants and t-shirts, and Bucky has to admit, he's kind of excited. He hasn't gone for a run in - well, years.

He brought his jacket along, but he's already taken it off. It's too warm, and plus, he doesn't want anything holding him back when he's running. His hair is blowing in his face, too, so he reaches up and ties it back, and Sam laughs.

"Oooh, Bucky's tying his hair back. Shit just got serious." He winks, cracking his neck. "Let's do this. You ready, Rogers?"

"I'm more than ready." Steve isn't even bothering to get into a starting position, he's just standing there comfortably, and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Oh look at you. Whatever, man. Where we running to?"

"How about just down to the end of the water? That's a pretty long run, for you," Steve suggests, smirking, and Sam punches him lightly in the arm.

"You're not as nice as everybody says you are, you know that? Okay. Let's go for it."

"Just down to there?" Bucky asks, pointing to the end of the rectangular pond, and Steve nods.

Sam suddenly starts running without warning, and Steve takes off after him, Bucky instinctively following.

In only two seconds, they've both overtaken Sam, who shouts something on the way by that Bucky doesn't hear. He and Steve are going too fast, and he's amazed to find he's completely keeping up with Steve, step for step, and it isn't even taking any effort whatsoever.

They reach the end of the water in what seems like only moments, and Bucky stops, looking back. Sam is still running, only about halfway along.

He looks over at Steve, unable to hide a grin. "You weren't holding back for my sake, were you?"

Steve laughs. "Are you serious? Buck, you're fast." He throws a casual arm around Bucky's shoulders, pulls him into a half-hug, then raises his voice just a little bit. "Nice to have some competition for once."

"I heard that!" Sam shouts, finally reaching them. He's breathing hard, and leans over to brace his hands on his knees. "You guys are jerks."

"Nope, you're just slow." Steve holds out his hand for Bucky to give him a high-five, and Sam sighs dramatically.

"Great. Now you guys are a team."

"Always have been," Steve replies, smiling, and pats Bucky's back. "Hey, race you back."

"You're gonna lose this time, punk," Bucky grins. He can't remember the last time he felt this free and happy – he feels even better than he did when they climbed the mountain, and that's saying a lot.

Steve looks shocked for all of one second before he laughs out loud. "You're a jerk. We'll see about that."

Bucky grins. "No, _you'll _see, I'll be winning." And he takes off, laughing over his shoulder as Steve leaps into motion behind him.

x

**So StardustOwl's idea was for all of them to race each other in the park, and Ohgress's idea was for Bucky to go to one of Sam's veteran meetings. Great ideas, right? :D I hope you guys liked how they ended up!**

**I really don't think this will be my last time writing about Bucky and Steve, but if I do write any more stories they will be posted separately to this one (unless they are a chronological next step in this storyline).  
**

**Again, all the thanks in the world to everyone for reading and reviewing!**

**Please leave me reviews on your way out and let me know what you thought of this chapter as well! :) THANK YOU!**

**~sergeantmicky  
**


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